The 84th Annual Hunger Games
by Fifidear
Summary: A year has passed from the dramatic events of last year's games and a new group of tributes are about to be reaped for this year's thrilling and deadly games. *CLOSED SYOT* ON HIATUS
1. Welcome to the 84th Hunger Games

Lately, I have been dying to get some fanfiction out to some readers. I have always been a fan of SYOT's on fanfiction. I took on two SYOT stories, but with school and writer's block the updates got more and more prolonged. The longer the update the less readers would follow the story. I got caught up in life and when I finally caught a break and decided I wanted to finish everything I started (beginning with my very first SYOT), I started updating to find no readers left. Update after update, I found that all my readers had gone onto more important things in life. But the thing was... I still wanted to write. It was hard writing to no one listening, so the motivation just stopped again. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to take on another SYOT. So here I am today. I am starting a new chapter of my life (literally) and beginning the 84th Annual Hunger Games. I have great hopes for this story and as I write about the horrific games that unfold in this tale, I plan to finish all of my other ongoing projects as well.

I want to try to do my best on this, so I'll be trying to update as MUCH as I can. Considering I am on summer break and the upcoming school year is just some typical college stuff I should have a lot less stress and a lot more time for writing!

**Chapters and Story Information:**

There will be 12 chapters on the Reapings, 1 Chapter on the train, 1 on prepping with the stylists, 1 on Opening Ceremonies, 3 chapters on Training, 2 chapters on Interviews, and 2 chapters just before the games. If something juicy happens with the tributes during these chapters there may be more chapters on that event than noted here!

In the Reapings, each character will have their own POV, most of which will just have the concept of before the reapings and during them. Good-byes will not be included unless asked for.

On the train, I'm having a drawing to see who gets their point of view.

A second drawing will be held to see who gets their point of view for prepping with the stylists.

The Opening Ceremonies will be in third person. As if you were the viewers of Panem.

As for the Training Sessions in the Training Center, I'll be doing two more drawings. Plus, a POV from one of the instructors and another third person for Training Scores.

In the Interviews it will be in third person again and will feature the first 12 tributes of the game.

The Pre-Game will be in first person for the last 12 tributes.

Then, third person AGAIN for the games. I'm not sure how many chapters will be included, but in the end I will most likely do a couple POV's of the last standing.

A couple breaks will be included in the arena for: Interviews for the final eight's family and friends and large author notes. Or possibly: Chapters about the ongoing events with the sponsors or gamemakers.

In the end of the games, we will take time to see how families of the lost tributes are doing and how the district moved on without them. And of course, we will take a look at our victor's new life.

If you are unclear about any way the story is set up, feel free to take a look at "The 83rd Annual Hunger Games" to get a glimpse of how this SYOT will unfold.

_NOTE: Peeta and Katniss died in the Third Quarter Quell and any personal suspected of rebelling were trialed for disrupting the peace and killed. The Capitol broke their treaty of peace with District 13 and destroyed what was left of their district. There was no rebellion and life without a Mockingjay went on._

**Tribute Form Information:**

To enter your tribute, my profile will have a form for you to fill out and PM to me. Unlike most SYOT authors, I _love_ interesting characters. In the end, there will probably be some bloodbath tributes to get the story going. But I promise that even those usually find a great place in my SYOT's. I believe every character has a purpose. That's why I suggest not leaving the story if you're tribute becomes just a name in the sky. They will most likely be mentioned by other tributes or affect the story in some shape or form. You can submit 3 tributes max!

For the rest of this story, this chapter will be a page for news or information for the story. The next chapter will discuss the sponsoring system and the third chapter will have the tribute list.

Welcome to the 84th Annual Hunger Games and all the horrors that come with it!

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><p><em><strong>84th Annual Hunger Games News and Information:<strong>_

July 11, 2014-

As soon as district one tributes come in, we will get this train rolling and begin our adventure! Remember to enter your tribute and make your sponsor account!

August 20, 2014-

I know I had promised the District 4 Reaping to be posted two weeks ago, but a lot has happened in the last few weeks that have held me up. I planned on finishing the D4 Reaping on Wednesday the 6th as it was the only available day I had in the upcoming weeks, but I had a very emotional and chaotic day, which withheld me from finishing the chapter. The days between then and now were packed full of events including registration for college and my birthday. These plans set back my writing even more so. I have a few days off before I leave for a choir retreat at the end of the month so I will try to pound out as much as I can for the next chapter! I want to personally apologize to anyone upset by the wait, especially those of you who contacted me asking for an update! Thank you for being patient.

August 28, 2014-

I have just reserved the spot for the District 5 female, but I don't expect to get the District 5 reaping done as soon as it is sent in. I just started swim and as it is a new sport to me, I have a lot of incoming stress to come along with it. Please be patient for the next update.

September 18, 2014-

I'm in the process of editing the District 5 reaping, but I have a lot of stuff going on that's prolonging the fine-tuning. I've got job applications and interviews this upcoming week, so bear with me! Thanks for understanding.

September 22, 2014-

Got the job! I'm currently getting used to this new workplace and with college stuff piling on my plate I will need time to finish my editing on D5. I want to apologize for anyone who tried to contact me for the past few weeks. I usually only check my phone for new emails and for the past couple weeks, nothing was really popping up in my mail feed. I assumed it just wasn't very busy up here and didn't really do anything about it since I had other things (college, work, editing) on my mind. Turns out I had some "suspicious activity" on my account and my provider closed my account until I could call them and change my settings. If I did not reach you, that's what had happened.

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><p>"Happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favor!"<p>

-Fifi


	2. Sponsor Rules and Lodge

**The following is the rules and sponsor lodge. The sponsor form can be found on my profile!**

**Rules:**

You can only sponsor IN the games! Send the form in BEFORE the games please.

You can sponsor two tributes at one time.

You start off with $1000.

If your tribute survives the bloodbath, you earn $100.

If your tribute kills someone, you earn $200.

If your tribute makes it to the top eight, then you earn $100.

If your tribute makes it to the top six, you earn $200.

If your tribute makes it to the top four, you earn $300.

If the tribute makes it to the top two, then you earn $500.

You can earn sponsor points at the end of each chapter by answering a question in a review.

When you think your tribute needs something in the games, PM or review how much you would like to give your tribute.

The district's "mentor" chooses gifts! (As in I will decide what your tribute gets in the games)

Even if you don't have any sponsors or sponsor money your tribute may still recieve gifts that do not interfere with the money/points you have earned.

If your tribute dies, you may switch your sponsorship to another tribute, but not one you are already sponsoring(You will keep all money/points you have earned)

_**Example Sponsor form:**_

_Sponsor's name: Fifidear (Your penname)_

_Tribute's name: Fenton Henderson_

_Tribute's district: 6_

_(Please PM me the sponsor form. When the game begins you can start sponsoring, then PM me (or review) the amount of money you're giving your tribute.)_

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><p>Sponsor Points:<p>

**District One:**

Amanda "Mandi" Danoir: Annabeth- TheTributeThatLived- $2250

Jasper Hensworth: Birthday Bonus- $200

**District Two:**

Victoire "Toire" Westerveldt: o Sweet Disposition o- $1350

Rufus Malus: VampireWolfGirl- $1000

**District Three:**

Elodie Copper: CherryRedPanda- $1700

Hayden Stross: Birthday Bonus- $200

**District Four:**

Halle "Hal" Ravenhire: Captain. Fang- $1750

Nico Laybourne: Alison- $1550

**District Five:**

Pepper Cresent: Birthday Bonus- $200

Alec Watt: Birthday Bonus- $200

**District Six:**

Thea Porter

Max Cooper

**District Seven:**

Charlotte "Char" Lace: PercyJacksonAlways- $1750

Leo Matchem: Birthday bonus- $200

**District Eight:**

Fathe McCothrane: Gunny979- $1200

Crew Seldrum

**District Nine:**

America "Meri" Lewis: TributeandProud- $2050

David Cornell

**District Ten:**

Nella Getter

Callen Fallson: XxThereAreTwoTypesOfLaborxX- $1000

**District Eleven:**

Remedy Farnahm

Cadius Nottic: Shock689- $1250

**District Twelve:**

Lucianna Tyrell: Alison- $1550

Kendrick Roughsedge: Birthday bonus- $200

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><p>Remember that you can sponsor a tribute anytime you like by just filling out a form!<p>

-Fifi


	3. Tribute List

**A/N: Updated 8/31/14 at 2:08PM (in Pacific Time).**

Good luck, chosen tributes!

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><p><strong>District One:<strong>

Female- Amanda "Mandi" Danoir (13)

_Submitted by Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived_

Male- Jasper Hensworth (15)_  
><em>

_Submitted by Hollowman96_

**District Two:**

Female- Victoire "Toire" Westerveldt (16)

_Submitted by o Sweet Disposition o_

Male- Rufus Malus (18)

_Submitted by VampireWolfGirl_

**District Three:**

Female- Elodie Copper (16)

_Submitted by CherryRedPanda_

Male- Hayden Stross (16)

_Submitted by Hollowman96_

**District Four:**

Female- Halle "Hal" Ravenhire (17)

_Submitted by Captain. Fang_

Male- Nico Laybourne (18)

_Submitted by AlisonBlock_

**District Five:**

Female- Pepper Cresent (14)_  
><em>

_Submitted by Jojowerid_

Male- Alec Watt (18)_  
><em>

_Submitted by Larkins11_

**District Six:**

Female- Thea Porter (15)

_Submitted by captain. fang_

Male- Max Cooper (13)

_Submitted by TributeandProud_

**District Seven:**

Female- Charlotte "Char" Lace (17)

_Submitted by PercyJacksonAlways_

Male- Leo Matchem (14)

_Submitted by LincStef_

**District Eight:**

Female- Fathe McCothrane (16)_  
><em>

_Submitted by Gunny979_

Male- Crew Seldrum (13)

_Submitted by HogwartsDreamer113_

**District Nine:**

Female- America "Meri" Lewis (17)

_Submitted by TributeandProud_

Male- David Cornell (14)

_Submitted by LincStef_

**District Ten:**

Female- Nella Getter (13)

_Submitted by Paremeth_

Male- Callen Fallson (16)

_Submitted by XxThereAreTwoTypesOfLaborxX__  
><em>

**District Eleven:**

Female- Remedy Farnahm (16)

_Submitted by Hollowman96__  
><em>

Male- Cadius Nottic (16)

_Submitted by Shock689_

**District Twelve:**

Female- Lucianna Tyrell (15)

_Submitted by AlisonBlock_

Male- Kendrick Roughsedge (16)

_Submitted by Lincstef_


	4. District 1 Reaping

**A/N: **We have our first tributes to start off the reapings! Enjoy!

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><p><strong>~District One Reapings~<strong>

**Amanda "Mandi" Danoir's P.O.V.**

When I wake up I can feel the morning sun trickling across my face. I stretch my arms above my head until they hit the wall behind me. I then haul myself up to pull back the curtains by my bedroom window. The view is breath-taking. It was fitting that we manufactur the luxury items; Our district is beautiful. Our house sits on a small hill on the outskirts of the district, so every morning I could wake up to a near picture perfect world.

My attention shifts from the view, to a few older boys from my neighborhood walking toward the town square. "Today is reaping day," I remind myself as I eye their somewhat formal attire. I never had the taste for the games like a lot of the people in the district do. I spend just as much time training as other children my age, and for what? To go into a game and kill for fame and fortune? It makes me feel sick.

On the bright side, I never really need to worry about being reaped because someone would always raise their hand and volunteer themselves.

I grab my glasses off my nightstand and place them on my face. I have needed glasses to see since I was a little girl. It was always a struggle being "the bug eyed" kid in class. Most kids, the decent ones, did not mind at all. But like all schools there are always snobby girls who look for the bad in everyone. For years my brown eyes have been framed by a purple cage and my lashes bat against the lens every time I blinked as if trying to escape. Despite all the troubles, I like what I look like and who I am. I have a loving family and great friends, which is all that matters.

I kick off my bedspread and get out of bed. My toes pop as I walk over to my wardrobe in search of a reaping outfit. _A jean skirt and a sweater should suffice_, I think to myself. I slip the silver sweater over my head and roll up the sleeves a little so they are out of the way. I take a glance at the mirror and study myself for a while. My hair, being as stubborn as it always was, dances around my head wildly. Hopefully a bath will calm it down and bring down the frizz.

Through the door I can smell something delicious cooking. For a moment I stand there, overcome with a savory breakfast smell. Reaping days, although an opening for the most uncivilized event in history, are also one of my favorite days because all of the shops and schools are closed, and my mother had a whole day just to spend with us. I poke my head outside my door and there she is, creating my family a beautiful meal. She is singing a melody that I remember from when I was a child. With a touch of grace and nimble feet, I dance my way into the center of the kitchen to her tune. She hardly notices me sneaking up behind her until her eye catches my reflection in the window. She keeps on singing and I keep on dancing. I may not have been blessed with her vocals, but I had inherited some of her artistic talent. Not to toot my own horn, but I had been dancing for years. My instructor tells me that my feet are so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

"What's with the recital right now, ladies?" I look over to see my brother Adam, prepped for his last reaping ever. I smile at him as he grabs my hand to try and dance with me. _Poor guy, he has two left feet_. He laughs at his clumsiness and says, "I'm starting to realize why none of the ladies ever wanted to go to the school dances with me."

After some nonsense moves and all of us making fun of Adam's poor dance abilities, we all pull out a chair for breakfast. While being tempted by a heavenly smell all morning, my stomach is driving me crazy waiting for my mother to show us what delicacy she cooked for us. She finally sets down the most horrific omelet I have ever seen. "What? What is this?" I ask astonished.

"It's a liver and onion omelette..." Mom is sort of saddened by my reaction.

Adam picks up a giant piece of omelet and shovels it into his mouth. He chews with his mouth open and I resist the urge to gag. "Don't worry, mom. You're disgusting looking omelet doesn't taste that bad," he says making a series of repulsed faces. He then swallows and grabs a glass of water to wash out the taste.

"Well I'm not eating it. No way!" I say as I push my plate away from me.

Mom just picks at her omelet with her fork all gloomy-like and says, "I went to the market yesterday and bought some blueberries. I guess you could help yourself." With that, Adam throws down his fork onto his plate, kisses mom on the side of the head, thanks her, and runs for the fruit.

We spend the rest of breakfast eating fruit and talking. Slowly, our conversation progresses to the point where we are chatting about the day's upcoming reapings. Our family does fine financially, so there was never a need for Adam or I to volunteer in the games. Our mother never expected us to either. Being the caring and loving mother she is she could not imagine life without her kids. When my father left, we were all she had left. That included Adam, myself, and a few children with special needs she teaches at the nearby elementary school. Adam reassures my mother that if he is reaped today, some naive fool will surely take his place, and from then on he would be off the hook. Next reaping he will be 19, and his name will no longer exist in the crystal bowl. I am only 13, so I have a while until my reaping years are over. Hopefully I have a "naive fool" there if I ever need one.

**~District One Reapings~**

**Jasper Hensworth's P.O.V.**

_"And the male tribute for this year's Hunger Games is... Jasper Hensworth!"_ I awake with a jolt, like an electric shock is sent through my entire body. My eyes, still needing to adjust to a sight other than the back of my eyelids, picks out two blurry figures jumping on my bed. It's the girls. Again.

I remove the pillow from under my head and place it over my face in agony. "Just a few more minutes. Please," I beg.

"You sleep all the time you lazy bum. Wake up and actually do something for once," Ruby snarles. For a seven year old, that girl has a lot of sass. I lift up my pillow and hit her across the face to clear her off my bed, then let out a little laugh when she falls off. Ruby gets up and returns with a combo of punches to my stomach. It's not painful, but I pretend it hurt a little for her sake.

Sapphire lies down next to me so her face is parallel to mine, and looks at me with her big green eyes. They are identical to Ruby's, or so they were supposed to be. When Ruby looked at you, you would think she was out to kill you, but Sapph always had a little light of hope in her eyes. "Oh please, oh please wake up and play with us Jappy," she pleads. I couldn't help but smile a bit when she says this.

"Alright, alright. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Not long after, I find myself in the kitchen looking for Sapphire and Ruby. I do not see them anywhere and I hope they moved on from playing with me to find some dolls to distract themselves with. _Maybe I can sneak out to my hammock in the backyard and keep sleeping_. After taking a quick glance of my surroundings, I start walking toward the sliding glass door and toward the sweet sound of absolute silence. My mind goes drowsy just thinking about it.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my shoulder firmly, turns my body around, and pulls me into a hug. I know the sickly medicine smell all too well. It is my dad. He has been working overtime so he could rake in more cash. Not that we needed it; our family did fine with my parents' jobs. Mother works at a jewelry store, which not only brings home lots of pay, but perks for the twins as they would always get new necklaces and rings. Father benefited me with his medicinal knowledge whenever he came home. He always has stories to tell about the healing world, and they quite fascinate me. It was a win-win scenario for everyone. "Is that what you're wearing?" Dad scoffs with a cheesy smile on his face.

I look down to comprehend what I was wearing. It happens to be my usual ensemble- a t-shirt, jeans, and some sneakers. "Yeah..." I reach behind my head and scratch it while giving a small smirk.

Dad just smiles and says, "You are the laziest son of a-" He's interrupted by a train of laughter running past us. Sapphire and Ruby run around the house giggling hysterically as mom chases their tails. Dad swoops in front of Sapphire and picks her up to then spin her around, just like he would have done with me when I was her age. She seems surprised to see dad home, but her excitement is muffled because from laughter when dad starts to tickle her.

"Why does she get the special treatment?" Ruby stands with her arms crossed with a giant frown on her face, just waiting to be tickled like Sapph. When dad continues to tickle her, she stomps her foot and looks up at me. I just stare straight back down to her, her green eyes on my blue. Maybe if she hadn't interrupted my sleep I would have the energy to play with her like she wants. Ruby comes at me like she is going to attack me, but mother dives in, grabs her underarms, and lifts her into the air.

The more I watch the four of them play, the more out of it I feel. My eyes watch them grin and laugh while running around like maniacs, yet my attention is somewhere else. I can't stop thinking about the dream I had this morning about the reapings. I hardly ever dream about the Hunger Games. As I mentioned, my family had a fair amount of money and we never needed tesserae, so my name would only be in the bowl four times. Not to mention I had trained up until I was twelve, just to figure out I could do better things with my time. I was not worried that if I _had_ been reaped, I would at least have a slim chance of making it out. This new thought of being reaped haunts my mind and lingers like a mysterious fog.

**~District One Reapings~**

**Amanda "Mandi" Danoir's P.O.V.**

"Need some help?" I hear my mom call from the doorway. I had been struggling with my hair for a good ten minutes. Usually I would just settle down with a messy bun, but the hot and humid air was just making my hair more frizzy by the second. I shouldn't care, really. It's just that if I go looking like this, I can imagine walking up to my friends in the square and Caroline giving me a snotty comment about how lovely my hair looks. I take in a big breath and exhale a long sigh.

Mother walks over swiftly and combs out my dirty blonde locks with a brush. She grabs a few thin pieces of my hair and begins braiding them, then rolls the rest of my hair into a bun. She wraps the braid around the base of my bun, and then secures it all with a rubberband. The updo is a lot higher than if I would have made it myself, but I like it. All I want is to go to the reapings without stress or bickering, and then come home for a peaceful night with my mother and brother. My hair was sure to keep Caroline or other snobby girls from ruining it.

I look up at my mother who just stares back at me through the mirror. She is a petite woman. I sometimes question how all of that kindness fit into her small form. "Thank you, mom. I love it," I say with a little smile. She kisses my cheek and walks out of my room without another word. The world seems like it was put on mute and with it, an uncomfortable feeling of loneliness washes over me.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Rose is a girl that knew how to get into a person's face. She always knows how to keep my attention, and I like that about her. I meet up with her first on my way to the square. Followed by her is Grace, a polar opposite. She is quiet and quite the sweetheart. Caroline is last, as she was the closest to the square. I told my mother and brother I would meet them there, and afterwards go with them to go eat in the town square at one of the shops. I highly doubt Adam will come with, though. He is a well-liked man around the district and he is sure to get caught up with some friends after this event.

"You look really nice today, Mandi," Caroline says with a grin. The other girls chime in, Rose being much louder than Grace when they reply. I thank them and compliment them all on their stylish picks for today's reapings. All of our families have enough money to get by. We aren't wealthy or popular, but neither poor nor unpopular.

As we arrive in front of the justice building and the town centre, our little gang disperses into groups of two. Caroline and I walk into the roped off thirteen year old section, as Rose and Grace find themselves with the fourteen year olds.

We show up on time with a few spare minutes for Caroline and I to chat. In the back of my mind I keep thinking about Adam. It's his last year and he was pretty much home-free, but I have a feeling some irony would change that. I constantly keep looking for Adam towards the front, where the older kids were.

At noon exactly, the reaping begin. We sit through the mayor's speeches and squeals. It is the same old thing as last year and the year before that and so on. My attention was only paid towards Hayli Westerfeld's ugly maroon outfit. She iss quite the perky escort. Probably because behind districts 2 and 4, we were always bringing her star players. It is probably the reason she got to keep her job for so long.

"Ladies first!" Hayli screeches. Her pale, small hand reaches into the giant reaping bowl to snatch one slip out of a couple hundred of slips. In a quick motion she pulls out a single scrap of paper and reads off: "Cordelia Gray"

I wait for that all so familiar sound of someone yelling out: "I volunteer as tribute!"

Everyone turns around and stares at me. Caroline tumbles a few steps backwards like she has seen something horrific and is trying to run from it. People start moving away from me and my eyebrows furrow together in confusion. In the midst of my disorientation, I hear Hayli, "Well, well. It looks like we have ourselves a volunteer! Come on up, deary."

It all hits me hard. My words made it further out than just my mind. And because of it, I am now a tribute in the 84th Annual Hunger Games.

**~District One Reaping~**

**Jasper Hensworth's P.O.V.**

The female tribute slowly walks out of the crowd of thirteen year olds. It is surprising to see such a young face. Most volunteers wait until they are older and they have had years of experience in training. She has this weird look in her eyes like she is surprised. She volunteered, didn't she? What did she expect?

Hayli asks for her name and she grasps the microphone to say, "Amanda Danoir". I didn't know her, but it was nice knowing her for this short period of time.

The escort waddles in her heels over to the next reaping bowl. "How about for the boys?" She reaches inside the glass object and grazes all of the paper scraps with her long, red nails, as if her nails are dripping blood all over the possible names she could draw right then. "Jasper Hensworth," she finally calls out after grabbing a slip and reading it.

_That's me... _In complete and utter shock I begin making my way to the stage. As I move through the crowd their ages progressively increase, and a boy who is in the roped off area for the seventeen year olds, put his hand in front of my chest to stop me. He is about to volunteer, I knew, and instinctively I yell, "Don't!" He backs off instantly and I keep walking to the stage.

I run up the steps as our mayor gets up from his seat to finish the reaping with the traditional Treaty of Treason. During the entire lecture, I subtly try to take a look at what I am up against. I tower her height-wise, and it is hard to tell if she was toned at all or if she just had small, knobby features. I am not the most muscular guy, but I had a nice physique, especially for someone who hardly gets out of bed. All I know was that that dream I had earlier must have been some sort of sign. What were the chances that I would dream about being reaped, and then it actually happening? I was destined to be in the Hunger Games. I was destined to win.

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><p><strong>AN:** First chapter- Check! I'm very excited to get this ball rolling. Please review and send me any critiques you have!

If you are signed up to gain sponsor points, here are some questions you can answer in your review to rake up points for the games: (If you haven't set up an account, you can still send in forms!)

- What do you think of the district one characters? ($50)

- From the information in this chapter, what minor qualities does Amanda have that could help her or destroy her in the games? ($50)

- From the information in this chapter, what minor qualities does Jasper have that could help him or destroy him in the games? ($50)


	5. District 2 Reaping

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait! Hoping you like these characters, because I really liked writing about them.

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><p><strong>~District 2 Reaping~<strong>

**Rufus Malus's P.O.V.**

The heavy iron mass flies wildly while I whip the chain above my head in a circular motion. The speed gradually picks up and the ball swings faster and faster. Finally I extend my arm and the chain attached to the iron weight flies outward. It wraps around my lifeless opponent like a python around its prey. I yank the chain towards my body and the dummy flies toward me. While the human figurine soars in mid-air I swing the blade of my scythe with my right arm and strike it in the neck.

I swiftly turn around and enclose the metal links of the kusarigama's chain around a dummy's legs, then swing my scythe at another to my far left. The movement from my strike with the blade makes the chain jerk the other dummy to the ground. I pounce onto its chest and grab the knife from the back of my belt loop. My knees sit firmly on my enemy's hands and my bodyweight serves as an anchor to keep them from getting up. I place my knife across its neck and smile. The silver metal slices through the wax mannequin like butter and I can't help but keep digging. It all feels so real. Just like slaughtering an animal for Ol' Reznik.

I take a water break after working with some throwing knives. The kusarigama is my most resourceful tool in the training center, but I don't mind stepping out of my comfort zone. Not that I'm nearly as weak as those lower district scraps I always see in the arena. I have been training my whole life. There isn't a weapon I haven't seen or used. Not a tactic I haven't read about in the library books, or fighting technique I haven't fought. It's all just a daily part of my life.

I kick one of the seven dummy heads sprawled across the training room floor. District 2 has plenty wax people to spare. Plenty of training centers to spare actually. There are about three in the district, but my home is always right here in the Advanced Training Facility. My mom and dad admitted me to one of the dual programs when I was young. The program serves for District 2 kids hoping to be future peacekeepers or Hunger Game victors. My mother hopes I can one day be a Hunger Game's legacy like she had longed to be when she was young. Whereas my father who was once a peacekeeper for our own district, hopes I would follow in his footsteps. It's always a controversy in our household. Both they and I know only one person can get their way.

Eleven years of sweat and hard work pushed me to the top of the class. I gained eighty pounds of muscle, eighty years worth of past Hunger Game's knowledge, and maybe _more _than eighty reasons to be feared by the younger kids in the district. And you know what? I never get tired of it. I love every minute of doing what I do.

It is only five in the morning and I already feel so alive. The training center is always empty around this time of day, but that is the best way to train. I didn't need any distractions. I would not be able to handle people in my way all the time. I glance over at the dimly lit weaponry station and then over to the evenly illuminated peacekeeping station. This would be the last time I would need to see this place. This day I planned on choosing my own path in life. And that is winning the 83rd Annual Hunger Games.

I come across the light switch on my way to the showers and flip off the lights to the training center. No one would be coming for a while. Most people tend to cool it down on reaping day for training. Unless they were stupid enough to wait until the last minute for training.

Once in the locker room, I walk toward the shower and begin shedding my workout clothes. The tile flooring in the locker room chills my bare feet and a breeze wafts over my bare body. I turn the dial to its hottest setting and wait for the lukewarm water to spew out of its shiny spigot. It's a plus being great at what I do, because being at the top academy, we have a lot of luxuries the other two facilities don't, including showers. It is better than the baths at home. Usually victor's only get the promise of a warm shower. Although District 2 has a reputation for being the Capitol's pet, they don't seem as generous for the simple things that would make us happy.

The water washes over my light red hair, and I scrub it intensely to get all the salty sweat out of my hairline. I scrub until I reach my ear, and then trace the scar that stretches from there to my chin. It was a long time ago, but the flesh still feels freshly scarred. It was just an incident in the training center. My parents hit me a couple times for screwing up so badly that day. I ended up giving that kid quite a beating after that too.

I stand there for a long time with the water rushing over my face just thinking about what was to come later that day. It takes me a while to regain my senses and turn off the shower. I step through the steam and make my way to my clean clothes- just some khakis and a t-shirt like I usually wore around town. I step toward the mirror, rubbing my towel vigorously against my hair so it would dry. At my level of training it is regulation to keep your hair short so an opponent can't grab it, so the drying time was quick. I take a look at myself- a 6'1", muscular, blue eyed guy. I think the Capitol would be quite fond of my appearance. Not to mention my scar made me look like a total bad ass.

On my way out the training center's doors, I bump into a blonde girl who, compared to me, was so tiny and wimpy looking. "Take up the whole doorway, why don't you?" She says with a playful smirk. She doesn't take the time to look up at me, just squeezes by and gets to training. _What did I say? People always waiting until the last minute._

**XxXxXxXxXx**

The walk through town is quiet. It's only about six in the morning and I assume most adults were taking advantage of the no-work aspect of reaping day by sleeping in. The sidewalks are clear and every shop has a closed sign on the window. My head swivels toward the Nut and I see a hovercraft landing on a large ledge of the mountain. It is the only place awake and running by the looks of it. All the peacekeepers are getting on and off the train, going back and forth from the headquarters. _That could have been me._

I hear the ringing of a bell and look for cause of the sound. It's Mr. Reznik, the town butcher. He is putting a closed sign on the window display. I am not surprised he is awake, he is pretty talkative and since I practically work for him, he always had something to say to me. I could try to avoid him, but it seems pointless since the streets are empty; There isn't really anywhere to hide. He iss a nice man and all, but I don't really care for him that much. I keep walking and hope he didn't recognize me from the back. "Oh, Mr. Malus!" He yells behind me, "I'll be needing some newly cut meat by tonight. Reaping week always gets a bunch of sales. Do you think you could help me out with that?"

Besides school and training, I had taken up a job at the butchery slaughtering some of Mr. Reznik's livestock he had behind his shop. I don't really need the money, I guess it was just for more training purposes.

I sigh and walk toward him, "Actually... I can't, I will be away I guess you could say."

He knows instantly what I am talking about, "I always knew you would be a great contender!" He punches my burly arm and smiles. "Well I've got to get going. Good luck with you, boy." I wave him off and continue walking home.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Regardless of both my mom and dad being awake in my house, it is as quiet as the rest of the district. My parents keep to themselves most of the time. If it isn't about training then they don't seem to care.

I start walking to my room so I can change into a decent outfit for the reapings. I assume that my large build would give off quite the impression, but I still want to look nice for sponsors. I have been saving a red dress shirt just for the occasion. This year would finally be the one.

On my way to my room I see the sunflowers my mom has set on the table. Every week she makes sure to put fresh ones out. They became sort of a tradition for her, I guess.

_Once I win, I will be buying her flowers every day, for everything she gave me._

**~District Two Reaping~**

**Victoire "Toire" Westerveldt's P.O.V.**

Around ten o' clock Nate comes and picks me up from the training center. Since the incident I have been staying with him, along with my brother Finn as well. Nate's house is not nearly as nice as the one I have lived in my whole life for obvious reasons. I am the daughter of two of our district's most memorable victors. I spent the first sixteen years of my life in the Victor's Village with my two brothers and my sister who has recently moved out to live with her newly wedded husband- the mayor's son.

Finn and I had left home about a month ago to live with the Samuel family. Every condition in their household is a polar opposite to ours. I have a long, chaotic family line and Nate was born into a family of five that slowly dwindled to just three. His father was murdered by peacekeepers and a year later his mother was so consumed by the loss, that Nate found her one morning hanging near the back porch with a bucket kicked away from her. From then on it was just Nate, his brother, and his sister Hilary. Where I had grown up in a family that had money to spare, Nate's family income dwindled down. His older brother got a good position in the mining business that rakes in a lot of money for them. His sister started working at my age to help them keep the house. She got a job working in a fashion shop and volunteers at the orphanage when she can, just because she loves helping people. Last year, Nate got a job manufacturing weapons because Hilary was not bringing much home. My siblings and I have never had a job in our life.

It's crazy how different we are, but ultimately Finn and I fit in quite nicely with their families. To say the least, the two of us are not mom and dad's star children. We are the outcasts back home. Here, we are Toire and Finn. We did not have to uphold any family legacy or reputation.

"How did training go today?" Nate asks, grabbing my duffle and slinging it over his shoulder, his face expressionless.

I kick a rock with my boot, "Good."

He stares at me with a kind of saddened expression, and then says, "Do you really need to volunteer?"

"It's for Finn, Nate. I have to."

"Who cares about your parents? Just... Stay with Hilary and me. You guys don't need to go back. What happened to the little rebel inside you?" When I was younger my mom put me in these god awful pieces of cloth she called dresses, and I hated it. I would dirty every dress she ever tried to make me wear. As I grew up, I started pranking as a way of rebellion, especially towards my older brother whenever he was being rude.

Nate steps out in front of me so I cannot keep walking. I am forced to look up at him and take in what he has said. I watch his vivid blue eyes fixate on me. A hint of sadness shows in his eyes and his breathing slows to an uneasy pace. "Would you rather risk leaving all of the people who love you behind, or risk your parent's acceptance for Finn?" He places his hand on my arm and squeezes it ever so slightly; it makes my heart feel like it had lost its beat for a mere second. He backs up and looks me up and down, then pulls me close to hug me. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his slim body.

_"Why? Why? How could you do this to us, Phineas?!" My mom screams through tears and heavy breathing. She backs herself into the corner of the kitchen and slumps down into a ball. "Our family. Ruined. We willl look like fools." Finn starts to tear up just watching her._

_Dad places his hands on Finn's chest and shoves him onto the floor. The fall seems like forever. "You think we'll just live with a goddamn queer?! What type of people would that make us look like?!" His yelling just urges Finn to keep crying. _

_Finn begins to get up and dad lunges for him with his fist in the air._

I bury my face deeper into Nate's shirt trying to ease the thoughts of that night out of my head.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Nate and I are greeted at the door by Socks. He waddles over to me and plops onto my feet, then rolls onto his belly for me to rub him. Finn and I brought him with us when we left home. He is quite the ball of fluff. He has golden fur, cute floppy ears, and a need to steal socks (hence the name). We found him when he was a puppy. Finn begged for our mother to let us keep him and no was her final answer, but I kept bringing him into the house, and just like the dresses, my mom eventually gave up. Finn took an extra special liking to Socks once we had officially let him into the family.

Hilary is sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a book, which I assume is about fashion. She always had a passion for clothing, which is nothing like me. I did not really care for looks, and I did not think she needed to either. Hilary is by far blessed. She's curvy with long legs and fine skin. She has beautiful bright blue eyes like Nate and long, wavy, brown hair. Next to my scarred tan skin, choppy blonde hair, and hazel eyes she looks like a model from the Capitol. Of course, minus all crazy colors and the disgusting personality.

I have met plenty of capitol citizens being a victor's daughter. They are always fascinated with being in our personal space. You never have much appreciation for those who pinch your cheeks and treat you like a baby.

"Today's the day." I hear Finn say near the hallway. He is dressed in his reaping outfit already, a white dress shirt and some slacks. This is his third year in the reaping, as he is only fourteen. He looks somewhat nervous, and I doubt it was because he is worried about being reaped. He was never one to care about himself, he places his concern solely on others.

I walk over and mess up his brown hair with my hand, then hug him. "Why do you look so worried? You don't think I can win?" I smile, trying to ease his tension. He smiles back and shakes his head to tell me no. "Good," I say with a smirk.

I walk with Nate to his bedroom so we can chat before we needed to get ready. We used to sit on his bed when we were younger all the time and just talk for hours. "Do you think I can win?" I ask with a laugh.

"Are you kidding me?" He picks up my scrawny looking arm and laughs jokingly. From looks, I do look pretty lanky, but I have a lot of muscle in reality. I may have skipped a lot of training sessions, but I make sure to stay fit. I pull my arm away from Nate and give him a little shove getting defensive.

_I run in front of my dad trying to shove him away from Finn. I won't let him hurt him. I have never been more against my parents in any way. For years I just joked around trying to piss them off, but for once I really was standing against them. _

_Douglas, being the goody-two shoes brother he always was, grabs my shoulder and tells me to stay out of it. He has been training for years and has got quite a grip. He plans on volunteering next year just to make mom and dad happy. _

_It is me against a Hunger Games victor and a strong seventeen year old. "Get off me!" I snap at Douglas. Dad pushes me to the side so he can get near Finn and I grab the collar from the back of his shirt and pull him back._

_"Victoire Isabella Westerveldt, don't ever touch me like that!" He yells in my face. I feel spit on my hot face, but I don't care._

_I take one step toward him and say with the biggest, mightiest voice I can, "Don't. Touch. Him." He turns around and keeps walking toward Finn who's face is soaked in tears. "I will volunteer for the games as long as you don't lay a finger on him."_

"Toire. Toire!" Nate shakes my shoulders. I look up at him dazed.

I slowly recover from my flashback and give him a half smile, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I said, I think you have better chances than anyone of making it out of the arena."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Around eleven I find myself trying to leave the house in leggings and a nice looking t-shirt with Nate and Finn. Hilary stops me before I can and tells me to come back inside to get dressed in something more fitting. I end up in a tight gold dress that is tied in the back with a bow. She tries to give me her tall heels, but I just laugh at her offer and pick out some short, gold ones. I never like wearing shoes, let alone wearing tall high heels.

"You look beautiful," Hilary says with a sigh and a sappy look on her face. "Oh, and it brings out the gold flecks in your eyes. How gorgeous." She sounds like a capitolite.

I roll my eyes, "I look stupid."

Hilary looks defeated and then gives a shrug and says, "If you have to volunteer, you might as well look nice doing it." She gives me a sweet smile, and I am torn of whether or not I should smile back at that statement.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

On our way to the town center where the reapings are held, Finn points a familiar face out to me; it is our sister, Marina. She is with the mayor's son and in the most extravegant dress. She is a spitting image of my mother, inside and out. Finn calls her over and I bow my head down and shake it. Sometimes it drives me crazy how kind Finn is. Some people just do not deserve to be treated the way he treats them.

"Well, someone finally learned how to make themselves look presentable," Marina laughs as she walks toward us, aiming her insult toward me.

"I'm actually volunteering and I wanted to look my best," I brag, a total lie.

She glares at me. She wanted to volunteer when she was eighteen, but as a prank I turned her white reaping dress, pink. It was a small, harmless prank, but she, like my mother, was far too worried about reputation. She never did get to volunteer. For two years after that she blamed me that she would never live a life of riches and fame. She eventually got together with Dario Paxton, who was probably the most handsome, well-known, and one of the richer non-victors of the district, but I still get blamed for ruining her life. "Good luck then, little sister," She says with a sneer and walks off.

I smirk and continue walking with Finn and Nate.

The front of the Justice Building is packed with children in their designated areas. I have to split away from the boys and go to the female's sixteen year old section alone. I wait there knowing in a few minutes I will be on stage kissing my district goodbye. Hopefully just for a short period of time.

Our escort, Silvia Stamnes makes her way onto the stage in a green dress with giant peacock feathers protruding from her shoulders. Her smile is bigger than the feathers. It's quite frightening. "Welcome, boys and girls. It is time for the 84th Hunger Games. Let's see who our tributes are this year!" She quickly makes her way to the bowl and each cluttered step she makes matches my pounding heart.

She pulls out a card and I yell before she finishes reading it off to us, "I volunteer as tribute!" The girls around me spread out and make a path for me to get to the stage. Silvia hands me the microphone so I can introduce myself, "Victoire Westerveldt."

Silvia squeals in excitement. I want to vomit. "Oh how wonderful! A Westerveldt! Let's see who we have for the boys!"

As she makes her way over to the other bowl, I see my parents in the back. They look so happy, it made me sick to my stomach. They got what they wanted. I have lost.

"I volunteer!" I hear someone from the boys half of the district's children. My eyes are searching everywhere for a face emerging from the crowd. I try to calm myself down. I have been training like hell the past month and I will have an abundance of sponsors since I was a Westerveldt. What could be the worst he could be?

Finally, I see my opponent. A tall, super muscular boy from the eighteen year old section.

_What have I done?_

**~District Two Reaping~**

**Rufus Malus's P.O.V.**

When I get on the stage, the Westerveldt girl looks terrified. I can't help but grin at her priceless face. My parents always talked about how amazing her parents were in the games. I'm sure they will spend some of the time while I am away trying to get to know them.

I announce my name to the audience and then take my place on the left of the stage. After the mayor gives his ending speech we are asked to shake hands. I make sure to get a grip on her hand so I can show her how strong I am, but she seems more interested on the scar on my face.

We both enter the Justice Building to say our goodbyes. I only expect my parents to be there. I doubt many others would show up to say goodbye. Maybe Mr. Reznik or a trainer if I was lucky, but I don't really care as long as my parents show. All this time I have been waiting for this moment so I can show them what I can do. They would be proud that I'm a tribute.

I am taken to a nice room with comfortable couches. I make myself at home and wait for my parents to come.

But no one comes by.

**~District Two Reaping~**

**Victoire "Toire" Westervedlt**

My parents, Douglas, and Marina are the first to come in. They are the happiest I have seen them since Finn came out as gay. Mom keeps telling me how beautiful I looked up there and how I reminded her of herself when she was my age. Dad tells me endless strategies and reminds me to do this and that. I don't really pay attention, though. "Where's Finn?" I ask, cutting off my dad mid-sentence.

They stay quiet for a second, and then my dad speaks up, "He wanted to come in alone." I nod, wondering if they still didn't accept him.

An odd couple come into the room and congratulate me for volunteering, then praise my parents for raising such a fine Hunger Games competitor. I should be upset that someone would take away my time to say goodbye, but I am used to my parents being the star of the room. It is nothing new. The couple talks to my parents for a while and it is awkward sitting on the couch just being in the background. I just want to see Finn. And in the back of my mind I am so anxious to see Nate again.

Before the peacekeepers come in and said "time's up", the couple introduces themselves as the Malus family. It takes me a moment, but I am surprised when I remember where I had heard that name. That is my district partner's parents.

The confusing thoughts racing around my head all come to a halt when Finn comes in. He runs toward me and gives me a hug. He then slips something into my hand. I step back and open my hand to take a look at it- It is a golden bracelet. I have seen my mother wear it before, but- "I stole it from her jewlery box," Finn blurts out.

I am surprised that he did something rebellious for once. Actually, I feel pretty proud of him. I pull Finn in for another hug for our final good bye and say, "I'm coming home, for you. I won't let anything happen to you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Good-byes were not requested, but I think it needed to be included for purposes like Toire's token and Rufus's parents being gone. I want to mention that Nate probably came in to see Toire, but I wanted to leave the chapter at her saying goodbye to Finn. There was so much to be said and I know I left out tidbits of information on these tributes, so be prepared to learn even more when we hear from them again!

I'm excited to get to the questions for this chapter, so let's start that off!

- What connections can you draw from Rufus's family and Nate's? ($50)

- What are your thoughts on Rufus? ($50)

- What are your thoughts on Toire? ($50)

- Who would you rather go into the arena with? Rufus or Toire? And why? ($50)

I want to give a quick shout out to Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived and her story The 226th Hunger Games: Capitol's Picks. It's a closed SYOT, but worth the read!

Also, I want to wish our District Twelve male, Kendrick Roughsedge, a happy (belated) birthday! As a little gift I'm awarding him $200 worth of sponsor points. (I will be doing this for any tribute that has a birthday on their form and if you would like to adjust your form for this reason, then be my guest!)

-Fifi


	6. District 3 Reaping

**A/N**: Late update, but hopefully the crazy events in this chapter will make up for it somewhat! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>~District 3 Reaping~<strong>

**Elodie Copper's P.O.V.**

My body heat radiates across the white, linen covers wrapped around my body. My light brown hair sprawled across my pillow instead of the high ponytail it is usually in. I curl up my thin, fragile body into a ball as if trying to hold the warmth in the core of my body. There is no clamoring of workshop tools, or factory buzzers ringing through my head. Just silence. It is not a typical day.

Nine in the morning you would find me in my work clothes in one of the factories trying to keep our family out of the gutters. Not here, in my blissful bedroom. I would be running around the warehouse trying to supply our assembly line with the proper tools. I am in one of the most advanced groups, meaning I build some of the most valuable necessities in the Capitol. Our assembly line varies from Capitol televisions and computers, to electric force fields, to holographic devices.

I started working in the industries of District Three the same time my brothers did- twelve years old. Here, the factories don't care how old you are as long as you know how to work with the technology. This was a cinch for me, as I grew up constructing and deconstructing complicated devices around the household. It was not a challenge to work my way up to the top in my line of work.

It takes a lot of convincing to get myself out of bed. Although, glad I did, because outside my bedroom walls is a meal waiting, just for me. A buttered sourdough roll and a few slices of cheese are on a plate on the counter. It is next to three stacked, empty plates, meaning my brothers must be awake. Hovering over our counter is my mother. She sways her wet washrag back and forth trying to rid the crumbs my brothers left.

I pull up a wooden chair from the corner and begin to fill my mouth with the delicacies before me. It is odd enough for my mother to be awake when I was in the morning, but even more so that scraps of dairy are being offered for breakfast. In this district, not a farm animal is in sight. Our town square's shops are always just given rations of food from the Capitol in return for what we give them. We live in an industrial land filled with nothing but warehouses and overworked citizens. There is no flora or fauna to look upon, just smoke.

Everything is a bit stale. Perhaps because I overslept or just because nothing fresh here stays good for long. I swallow the cheddar as well as I can, but it is still pretty rough sliding down my throat. I take a slug of milk from a metal cup beside me. My eyes wander as the creamy goat milk slips through my lips and into an awaiting dry mouth. I can see a bead of sweat rolling down my mother's forehead as she moves around the kitchen, cleaning everything the three boys have left for her. She has to hand scrub every bowl with a wet rag, as she refuses to use the sink after the dirty water resulted in the death of my sister. It exhausts her always going the extra mile, but the event of Elsa's death left her scarred for life.

"Do you need any help?" I ask, setting down my cup then wiping my upper lip in case any milk residue was left on my lips.

She looks up at me through her dark brown hair with her hazel eyes that replicate mine, and gives me the tiniest of smiles and a quiet, "no, but thank you Elodie." My mother was never a woman of many words. And when she and my father met, the phrase "opposites attract" never fit so perfectly.

My dad was obnoxious and everything he said seemed to come out more like a yell. It was not all his fault for being such a loudmouth though. After a close encounter with death and then a big recovery, he lost his job and took up alcohol. My memories of him for the last seven years are of him with a bottle of booze in his hand. Not only was he not working to bring home pay, but our money was being drained by the costly liquor he bought every night.

He relapsed when I was fourteen and was not so lucky that time.

Gyro comes and stands next to me, leaning against the kitchen counter, "finally wake up from your coma, did you?" His eyebrow is raised and a kind of rude smirk is plastered on his face.

Gryo and I are the middle children, that is, after Elsa died. Before the cholera took her away from us, I was the only middle child. Miles was the oldest at eighteen and Batt the youngest at fourteen. It is a big family to feed, but we make it by okay, money and food wise, as we are all a good age to work. Which means we are also all at an age to have our names in the reaping bowl.

"Maybe if you worked on the hardest assembly line at work, you would be as tired as me," I laugh trying to add a playful tone to our awkward conversation. Gyro and I aren't always as close as I am with Miles, but Gryo taught me how to throw knives and how to defend myself, which did count for something. Miles would never have done it- He was such a happy, positive person, that he wouldn't even think about having to be in a situation where someone else could hurt him.

"Maybe if he could _reach_ the table of the assembly line," Batt says from behind me. He is the youngest of us all at fourteen.

Gyro turns around and shoves him, making Batt's glasses fall off his small framed face, "you're one to talk, Brat." Although Gyro was a year older than me, I am at least two inches taller. Batt, or as Gryo always called him, Brat, is even shorter. He is maybe only five feet or so.

"Boys!" Mother snaps at them, raising her voice higher than a whisper. I should be surprised, but she always does that with my brothers. She has little tolerance for them being obnoxious like our dad was. The only time she ever snaps at me is when I ask about her personal life or about dad. She always feels bad about it later, possibly because I think she realizes how similar she sounds to her husband when she does it. On the inside, I think my mother is a very damaged person.

It is quiet after that. Gyro just pouts to himself as Batt puts his glasses back on and adjusts them on his nose. "Where's Miles at?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"He went to the square to buy something. He says he's got us a special treat for it being his last year in the reaping," Batt says. He always imagines he knows everything that goes on around him, and he is usually right. Of course, everyone makes mistakes, which I always think of as a learning experience, and Batt always thinks of it as the end of the world.

Gryo scoffs, "unless he gives all his money to those low-lifes on the street on his way there." Miles does have a habit of giving away a bit of his savings to the homeless out on the streets, but I admire how selfless and kindhearted he is.

Mother plants her hands on the kitchen counter, her body facing away from us so we can only see the back of her head shaking back and forth at the boys. She takes a long inhale that sounds like a sort of sigh, then says quietly, "can we please just have a peaceful day?" She turns around and looks all three of us in the eyes, "please?"

**~District 3 Reaping~**

**Hayden Stross's P.O.V.**

"Do you want any breakfast, sweetheart?" My mother says peeking her head around her shoulder from our pantry shelves watching me enter the kitchen.

"No."

She pauses and takes a moment to think of something else to say, then replies in her high pitched, innocent voice, "yesterday when I was at the bakery, the girl handed me some extra rolls and said they were for you," she says with a giant smile on her face. "I think someone may have a little crush on my Hayden." She strides toward me and tries to put her hand on my shoulder.

I swat her off immediately, "did you pick up food for Eugene?" She stands there, confused about me changing the subject. "Well did you?" I say with a sharp, cold tone.

"I didn't realize he needed more food."

_Of course you didn't. _I roll my eyes and grab a can of beef broth off the self, pushing past her. I am about to head toward my room until my father calls me back, "hey buddy, slow down. It's reaping day. We're all home together as a family. How about we sit down and have a nice breakfast together."

"How about I go back to my room and do something productive while you two sit on your asses and have your little tea party," I snap, setting my can on the dining room table. My father is a hardworking man who rarely has the luxury of staying home to relax. Not that I give a damn.

He laughs and grabs me by the arm gently, "just because you're a teenager, doesn't mean you always have to act like one. Come on. Sit down and have a meal with us."

I just stand there glaring at him, eyeing him up and down. He is tall like me, both of us being around six feet. His hair is a messy bunch of brown curls, which makes my hair look incredibly fine. I have long, brown hair going down to the middle of my back. He, my mother, and I all have blue eyes framed by glasses. "I'm going to grab my things. And then I'm going down to my room," I say firmly.

He nods, disappointed and I push him away from me. I reach for my breakfast and see a newspaper lying alongside my can. _"Three Boys Whereabouts Still Unknown. Peacekeepers Rule Out Possibility Of Runaway Rebels." _I snatch the newspaper, roll it up, and tuck it under my arm. I make my way down to the basement, which for the past year has been my room.

My hand runs along the railing as I step down the stairs. My fingers trace all of the cracks in the wooden pole, until I reach the bottom where four giant scratches are etched into the wood. I remember scrubbing the damn thing with rubbing alcohol, mineral oil, cornstarch, anything I had heard that got rid of fingerprints or bloody residue.

Eugene is inside his cage still, so I open it up and hold out my hand to let him crawl on. His little padded feet walk into the palm of my hand and I pull him out of the cage. Rats are incredibly intelligent. It was perhaps the only reason I started a connection with him. We both are two knowledgeable specimens surrounded by idiotic imbeciles.

I reach behind his ear and tickle it, making his body scrunch up and I listen for the squeaking noises he emits that resembles human laughter. I then stretch out my arm and set him in a tube that resembles a moat surrounding the room and watch him scamper around for a while then come straight back to me. He makes me smile a bit.

I built the tubing myself. I build a lot of things myself, actually. I spend ninety percent of my time just building new things. My father always tells me I should put my skills to work at one of the factories, but if he thinks I would spend my whole day sitting next to scum and working with them just for a few dollars, then he would be wrong.

I can hardly sit in a classroom without gawking at my peer's stupidity. Why do I even need to be in school? I have a much higher IQ than any other pathetic teenager in the district. It's all just stupid Capitol law. The only thing they are useful for is good, old-fashioned Hunger Games killing.

The games fascinate me; there are new slaughters every year for me to feed on. It's a brilliant idea that I wish I had thought of myself. It's like a natural selection that is quick and incredibly captivating all at the same time. I would lie in bed every night during those days of the Hunger Games after the Capitol had signed off for the night and imagined the fallen tribute's blood on my hands.

My eyes slowly shut and I take in a sharp breath. I hear the pleading cries of the three boys ringing in my ears and I feel a comforting feeling in the back of my head. Lust and excitement swarm my body and I feel my body get hot trying to remember what it felt like picking at their raw skin with my electric tweezers. I feel renewed and refreshed just thinking about that day.

The reflection of Eugene's glass cage gives me a clear view of my body. I stare at myself intensely and rub my thumb roughly in the palm of my suddenly shaky hands. My mind paints a false picture in the glass of the boys I killed. Their bloody, scarred faces are hanging loosely on their neck.

I stare at their dead, useless figurines and scoff at the idea that peacekeepers believed they left the district in some sort of rebellion. Who even cares what happened to them? They deserved to die. They were nothing but ignoramus garbage who didn't contribute to anything but ruining other people's lives. They needed to be taught a lesson. Everyone in this goddamned country needs to be taught a little thing or two.

My nostrils flare and my brows furrow thinking about their puny lives before they were sent into the dirt with the worms. I keep my glare on one of the faint images in the glass as one of the boys raises his head and just laughs. He laughs at me.

I turn around on the heels on my feet with a homemade stun gun ready in my hand to find _nothing._

I sit on my bed and rock back and forth. I crave it so bad. Just to watch someone get impaled by my own invention. No, fall to their death. Maybe step foot into electrical netting so I can watch their body shrivel like a raisin. Choking. Burning. Drowning. Freezing. Poisoning.

My mind feels like it's running through the same patterns of a maze or a puzzle that I usually solve just for fun. There is no end to this maze. There is no way out of it. I had to feel someone's dying pulse with my hands and their thick blood coated on my fingers. It's inevitable. I have to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

I get up from my bed and pick out a t-shirt and some slacks. It's what I usually wear, but it's nicer than what everyone else wears in this garbage district.

I grab Eugene's breakfast, a can of pig liver, and set it in his empty dish at the end of his moat. I heat up the small, one burner stove that I constructed myself out of metal scraps and some gasoline. Carefully, I pour my beef broth into a bowl and place it over the burner waiting for it to heat. I watch the metal get hot and begin to glow with a red tint. I know it won't burn up or melt as I have modified it so it will stay as firm as it was when I first made it.

Mesmerized by the orange-red light emanating from my invention makes me get lost in my thoughts. I find it funny that just a few minutes ago, I had come downstairs with just a hunger for some beef broth and I would leave this room with a thirst for blood.

**~District Three Reaping~**

**Elodie Copper's P.O.V.**

I leave the house early around eleven to go to my friend Violet's house. We talk for a long time about nonsense things, but she keeps it interesting with her positive outlook on all the bad subjects. Violet and I are very much alike when it comes to attitudes and I believe that ultimately drew us closer as friends.

"Do you want to stop by the warehouse for a bit?" I ask with a wide smile.

She looks at the clock and back at me with a smile that suggests I am crazy, "Elodie, we only have fifteen minutes until we have to be back in the square!" She lets out a small laugh.

"We can run," I urge her with a smirk.

And so we run.

I can put a montage of my life of just me running around places. It's insane, really. It isn't that I liked to, I just need to be places and need to be there on time.

We run into my boyfriend, Tinge, on the way there. I pull on his hand laughing and he looks at me the way Violet did when I suggested we go in the first place - like I was insane.

But ultimately we run.

By the time we reach the abandoned warehouse we are all smiling like crazy people. We climb up to the top, sometimes squeezing through tight spaces as pieces of the building have collapsed and made it hard to go up the ladders. I am the fastest which came to no surprise. My body is agile from climbing this place and from wedging myself into the factory vents at my work to help with the poor maintenance issues.

We finally rest when we get to the top floor where we are surrounded by punched out windows revealing the small, but somewhat astounding District Three. Violet, who is panting uncontrollably, lies down on the warehouse floor and relaxes her pulsating arms and legs. I stand next to Tinge by the windows watching the town center gather with people. "All of those people," I pant, "and two of them will leave and probably never come back."

He wraps my arm around my waist, kisses my forehead, presses his face against the side of mine, and softly says, "that's the Hunger Games for you."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Tinge, Violet, and I all make it to the square on time. We are tired and have lost a lot of energy, but we have made it. We all sign in and head to the heart of the crowd where the 16 year olds are all located. Tinge leaves to go to the left and I stay close to Violet as we take our place.

The escort has already made her way onto the stage and I am struck with a terrifying jolt of fear. My name is in the reaping bowl twenty-two times this year. I redeem myself and think about all the poorer children who have taken much more tesserae than me. I will be fine.

"Elodie Copper"

_That's... that's me..._ I am tremendously surprised but I keep my composure knowing all of Panem and possibly sponsors will see this footage. I walk to the stage calmly and silently. I can feel the back of my jaw starting to tremble, but I stand as still as I can trying to convince myself I will be okay.

The escort welcomes me and walks over to the boys. "Do we have a Lancel-"

A barely audible voice from the crowd says the famous words and everyone turns to see who it is.

It's a pale boy about my age with hair longer than mine that eerily hid his face. On his way onto the stage he swipes a piece of hair back and I can see more of his facial features- his pointed nose included. It reminds me of a rat almost.

Our escort hands him the microphone and a cold, lifeless response transmits over the speakers, "Hayden Strauss."

Today is not a typical day at all.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thank you for reading! Lots of rat research was actually put into this chapter! District Four is expected to be uploaded on late Thursday or Friday morning. (:

Questions, questions, questions!

- What are your thoughts on Elodie? ($50)

- What are your thoughts on Hayden? ($50)

- How would you react if you were reaped and knew your district partner was a ruthless murder/sociopath? ($50)

I love how everyone made the same connection to the Rufus/Nate parent situation in the last chapter. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but alright. I'll take it!

-Fifi


	7. District 4 Reaping

**A/N: **Sorry for the incredibly late update! I want to say in advance that if stuff like this happens again, go to the _Information and News_ section in the first chapter of this story. There should be some sort of explanation there. I posted one there this week, explaining my absence and I'm sure few people saw it, except the ones who asked about me not posting. Here is what it said, in case you have not visited it yet:

_"I know I had promised the District 4 Reaping to be posted two weeks ago, but a lot has happened in the last few weeks that have held me up. I planned on finishing the D4 Reaping on Wednesday the 6th as it was the only available day I had in the upcoming weeks, but I had a very emotional and chaotic day, which withheld me from finishing the chapter. The days between then and now were packed full of events including registration for college and my birthday. These plans set back my writing even more so. I have a few days off before I leave for a choir retreat at the end of the month so I will try to pound out as much as I can for the next chapter! I want to personally apologize to anyone upset by the wait, especially those of you who contacted me asking for an update! Thank you for being patient."_

On another note, I hope you enjoy the chapter, despite its very late upload! My beta could only do a quick read-through with me on this chapter, so please excuse the small grammar mistakes!

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><p><strong>~District 4 Reaping~<strong>

**Halle Ravenhire's P.O.V.**

Gray mist hovers over the dead sea I look out onto. It's very tempting to just get lost in the sight of District 4's vast ocean. The only upside having to work this early is watching the water in its most relaxed form. Come a few hours, the wind will pick up and the waves will start pounding on the rocks.

Reaping day follows this rule closely. People are home fast asleep, not on the docks like me early in the morning. The waters are still with no boats to rupture its sleepy state. But by ten it's crowded with District 4 kids running rampant, toes deep into the sand and hair filled with salty sea water. Every one of them savors their homeland's treasures before they attend a lottery that could possibly lead to their imminent death.

I was one of those kids, once. Coral would take me every year once her reapings began. I have not gone to the beach on reaping day since I was nine when she was reaped. I'm now seventeen and I still feel as lost as the day she left.

My feet spread apart and I crouch down to pick up the last shipment in sight. It's probably just another haul of trout or bass. Maybe even yellowtails. The Capitol is in high demand for our industry in summer and even though I'm not supposed to be working on reaping day, they probably cared more if their five-star fish feast was delivered to their door or not.

The crate hits the dock with a loud _THUD_ when I drop it in front of Red's feet, "I'm finished." Oh yes, dear old Red Darver. The man who my father worked for his whole life, the one who gave him false hopes for his own business, only to confine him to the chair sitting our living room.

"We've got some Capitol supplies that just came off the train this morning. I need it loaded on the boat before you leave," he says in a husky tone of voice. I have seen the new nets the Capitol has brought in, and I have heard talk about them for weeks during my loading and unloading of the ships from the fishermen who worked for the same company I do. It was desperately needed as some of the trawling nets were tangled or getting tears from scraping the sea floor too hard and hitting rocks. It got to the point where I had to help the crew with making tighter knots in the netting to mend the gaping holes.

Technically, we aren't supposed to start using the new supplies until the reapings are over and every one is to resume their everyday lives. Of course, like the typical Red, he is not going to let a little Capitol rule keep his workers from taking a day off. I sigh and come to terms with the fact he won't be letting me leave until the work is done. "I'll finish loading it on the boat. You can go home and be with your family if you'd like. There's no need staying to watch over me," I assure him trying to make myself seem more thoughtful so he would take up the offer.

"I think I'll stay here. It's no bother," he proclaims. Besides managing his company, the Red Haul, the bastard has a son maybe two years older than me. I see him on the boats every once in a while, but he's never really around Red. He grew up bitter like his father and that set them apart. Red probably enjoys being away from the house actually.

I shrug him off, kind of disappointed that I can't cheat my way out of the task. The ship next to ours on the dock has dolley that I could have run over and stole for a while. Brute strength has to take care of the job this time.

Walking away I can only hear my footsteps on the wooden dock in this ghostly place. Out of all of the dockhands under Red Haul, of course I am the chosen one to stay and work. I can't complain that much though. I'm used to the work so the actual labor doesn't bother me much, especially under these quiet conditions where I don't have to bear chatty coworkers. It's just Red's grueling authority.

Of course, in two hours my tranquil setting will transform into a zoo. I do not intend to stay around that long, but with all the new supplies I am sure to witness it all.

Slinging three trawling nets over my shoulder I begin to trudge back to Red's boat. It's a tough bundle of weights in all honesty, but my body manages regardless of my thin frame from my defined arm muscles. The long netting trails behind me like a train for a dress you would see on any District 4 tribute in an Opening Ceremony. Never on me of course. I never grew fond of dresses. Or anything girly if I may add while we're on the subject.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to reaped in the games. I'd hate everything they'd try to fit me into and I'd be better off alone then have a hundred cameras in my face. And obviously, after the Capitol took Coral away from me I absolutely hate the games and everything it stands for.

A feel a small tug from the nets that makes a sharp pain radiate through my shoulder. _One of the nets must have snagged on a knot in the wooden floor. _I look over my shoulder, the one bearing around one or two hundred pounds of poly fiber and nylon netting and see the problem- on the far side of the dock, the netting clings to a cleat holding one of the many tied off boats. I throw the netting to my side and run back to untangle it.

I can see Red out of the corner of my light brown eyes. He sits there picking at his nails, sitting on his ass like always. Crouched by the cleat, weaving the diamond spaces out of its clutches, I take a moment and think about life without the hard labor. At the moment, the Capitol sounds better than working here. I'd be away from Red and I wouldn't have all the stress. I highly doubt that time would come though. I only have one tessarae from when my father lost his job and the six slips from my age.

I finally place the nets into a large, white bin on the stern of the boat. I wipe the sweat off my brow and rest on a crate beside the bin. I run my fingers through my light brown, wavy hair and sigh. The mist that hovers over District 4's coastline is slowly fading away and it gives me a clear view out to the beach. It's empty, but the waves washing onto shore want to be heard. The sea foam dances on the shore, only to be washed away with the next wave. Everything moves so freely and I wish I can move with it. Alas, I am bound to this life for what seems like an eternity.

Looking out onto those waters and my surroundings captivates me and throws me into deep thought. That is, until a tall, muscular boy walks out onto the sand from a distance. He begins moving around and doing various exercises. Probably just another trainee for the next Hunger Games. I wonder if I would see him on the stage in front of the Justice Building later that day. And perhaps a name in the sky in the games thereafter. My common scowl slowly forms on my lips. All I can think of was how pathetic he was. All his muscle from academies and the want for a Hunger Games victory. My muscle was all derived from hard labor and the need to keep my home.

I turn a cheek to the boy and continue working.

**~District 4 Reaping~**

**Nico Laybourne's P.O.V.**

I'm sweaty and my body feels worn out by the time I reach the house. In spite of cutting my workout shorter than usual, I got into it. Maybe it's the adrenaline from knowing I would volunteer a few hours after, or maybe the empty beach setting pushed me to impress anyone who was watching. Not that that would be hard. I mean look at me.

The front door is wide open and I slip inside and peek into the living room where I find my father reading a newspaper on the couch. His presence is quite odd since he and I both have busy schedules. He works, often overtime, in the fish industry and I spend my time in the training academy. When our paths do cross nothing is estranged or awkward, we got along just nicely.

The work he put in does make quite the difference however. We have a nice, large house in the district and have plenty of money and food. If our house is in the victory village, you would not be able to notice that we did not belong. You could easily suspect my dad was some Hunger Games victor with his muscles, large build and his large wallet.

By the end of this year's games, I will have my own house in the Victory Village. My parents could live with me, and my dad could quit overworking. I have been training my whole life and I have no doubt that these events would be in my near future.

"How was your workout, deary?" I hear my mother call out from upstairs. She's preparing herself for the reapings already, with her fingers fumbling around her ears trying to put on earrings to match her black dress. She wasn't all too pleased when I told her I was volunteering. It's my last year for the opportunity, being eighteen and all, and I wouldn't put my training to waste. She was understanding about it, knowing it would make me happy. She would give her all to just make me happy.

As I grab a towel that was draped over the entry room table just for my arrival, I reply, "great. I mean I'm at the top of my class in training, so there wasn't much to improve, but I got stuff done." I scrub the towel against my tan forehead trying to remove the sand that was mixed in with my sweat.

She slyly slips down the stairs, her blonde hair swaying with her steps. She grasps my flushed cheeks and slowly lets one hand fall down to her side, the other lowering down to my shoulder, where a small scar had formed from training. She rubs her index finger on the nick like she's trying to scrub it away. _What was she thinking on the inside? She must have known I could do it. All the training they encouraged me through, she knew it was coming. _"Mom," I grab her attention, "I'll be fine." She nods, and then turns around motioning for me to zip her dress. Her elegant attire reminds me that I should probably prepare for the reapings myself. I inform her that I'm going to make my way to the bath and get ready. I am dismissed.

One, two, three doors down the hallway upstairs is the bathroom. I start up the hot water in the tub and throw off my lightweight clothing soaked with perspiration and saltwater. I step into the large, claw-footed, ceramic bathtub and begin to wash up. It's starting to feel like any ordinary day- waking up before sunrise, getting a good workout in, and coming home to shower. But I grasp onto reality. _Today is the day I've been waiting for. _

The same idea popped into my head as I am draped in a towel and heading toward my room thinking of something to wear. I'm about to grab just a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt, but I remind myself that sponsors would like to see me in something more appropriate. Out of consideration for the Capitol, I grab one of my suits and slip it on. The grey slacks are paired with a matching grey jacket, but I leave off the jacket so I don't die of heat in the dank weather. I stand in front of my mirror in my suave outfit and admire my charming look. I inherited my father's icy blue eyes and black hair, which serve me well with the girls in school. That, and my bulging muscles from training.

I angle my body toward my bed, where I find my dog, Lacey, plopped on top of it. I almost didn't notice her, as quiet as she was. Her golden eyes look drowsy and her frame wilted from old age. It didn't feel like it was that long ago when we first got her and she would jump all over you just excited to see a familiar face. Now she is nine and spends all her days looking out my window at nothing but clear blue skies. I sit on the bed next to her and rub my hand over her silky locks of grey fur, matching the color of my suit perfectly.

I sit there for a long time, watching her old, fragile body lie still wondering where the time has gone, when I had other things to do then train at the academy. I asked myself if I had really just lost so much time working for this upcoming week. If I had spent eight years just to become a typical career tribute in a game. Like everyone else in the old fishing district.

My mind snaps out of this trance. I remind myself I'm not just any career. I'm better. I have to be better than all of the past careers. I have to be... Perfect.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I stumble down the stairs to find my parents in the living room, cuddled up together on the couch. It must be nice for her to finally have him home. She seems happy, for once not about something about me. It's kind of an odd feeling not being marveled at. "I'm going to the beach," I say rolling up my dress shirt sleeves.

"In that?" My father laughs.

"I won't go swimming," I say coldly. As much as I wish I could, I won't risk being rushed for time getting ready again. My father nods and my mother waves me goodbye, telling me to have fun.

It is around eleven when I leave the house, so there is not much time to enjoy a swim anyways. I find Alaska, a girl I have known since the beginning of my training, and walk along the waterfront with her. She banters at my choice of outfit, but she knows there's a fair reason for it. "You think I could ever see you on that stage volunteering? Maybe next year?" I question. Alaska has two years left of reapings whereas I only have one last shot. If she has any idea of volunteering, I hope it would be the year after this one. After training for practically a decade together, I can't imagine having her as a district partner and eventually fighting her. Not that I wouldn't be the victorious one as I had fought with her before. In fact, it's pretty much the story of how we met. We were always paired up against each other in training. Needless to say, we took quite the disliking toward each other, but after a few years the attitudes shifted and we became friends.

Alaska stares out at the shore taking in my question, as tiny wisps of her brown hair fly out in front of her face from the light breeze. She has a sort of sour look on her face, "I don't know."

"You don't know? We've been training all our life. How could you not know?" I ask in disbelief. I look at her quizzically and she tries to avoid returning the eye contact. _What's up with her?_ "You just wouldn't like to have me as your mentor if you volunteered next year," I say with a canny smile and a small laugh changing the subject. The thought of me being in charge of Alaska and bossing her around makes my spirits so much brighter.

"Shut up," She says barely showing the smile on her lips. "Who says you'll make it out anyways?" Alaska says with a laugh.

I don't say anything after that, just look at the ground and purse my lips. _Oh, Alaska. You never know where to draw the line, do you?_

There is no talk for a while, only until Alaska squeaks a small, "sorry".

**~District 4 Reaping~**

**Halle Ravenhire's P.O.V.**

I'm somewhat relieved when the reaping is about to start and the entire district has left the beach and gone to the town square. And yet, I don't think it has occurred to Red that if we miss the reapings we will suffer the death penalty. My muscles ache from my head to my toes. I have an agonizing headache from the annoying beach party and I can barely lift anything anymore. Everything had to be dragged along the dock, as my arms and legs no longer bore the strength to carry as they did in the morning.

"Need some help?" Red says jokingy with a large grin and a crude laugh as I push the last crate onto the dock. I could kill him right now.

I muster my last bit of strength to carry the box over the gap between the dock and the boat, then throw it on top of the many other shipments marked with the capitol insignia. My hands grasp my knees and I pant heavily. My words are almost muffled by my heavy breathing, "I'm done, Red. I'm leaving."

He gives an almost evil smile and holds out his hand gesturing I can leave, "best not be late," he looks down to check his watch, probably paid for with all the unjust labor his workers put forth, "you've got two minutes."

I want to feel surprised, but I am so tired that I don't even show emotion. I just run as fast as I can toward the square- work clothes and all. I quickly shed my gloves and apron, leaving them on the dock. A part of me knows it is no big deal, that I can pick them up later, but the other part of me wishes I would never have to.

Eventually, after sprinting through what seems to be the entirety of District 4, I reach the square. Despite myself being the last to sign in, I'm able to take my place with the other seventeen year old girls. I don't know anyone near me, but I don't really care. I haven't had a real conversation with someone, heart-to-heart, since Coral died and my father started speaking in grunts. My heavy breathing is able to cease throughout the mayor's speeches and I look less sweaty by the time our escort comes up the microphone to say "ladies first!"

She reaches into the bowl and an odd thought pops into my mind. _What if it was me? Would it be all so bad? _I think back to the boat a few hours ago and how the idea of being reaped didn't seem all so horrible. It wasn't like anyone would miss me. I raise my head up a bit, desperately hoping that the name on that slip of paper would be mine.

But of course, it is not, "Aldelyn Lenette." A meager looking fourteen year old makes her way up the stairs. She looks like she is on the verge of tears and I can hear her sniffles from the middle of the crowd. It is when she turns and looks out toward the crowd that I see that same look of fear in her eyes that Coral had. Instantaneously, I say, "I volunteer." All eyes turned to me, and I doubt anyone recognized me. Perhaps the people I work with, but that was about it.

I start making my way toward the stage, thinking about what I have done. I can't stand for another innocent like Coral to be slaughtered on screen. I have a decent chance at this, and if I come home there will be no need for Red Darver and I can finally pay for my father's medicine. I try to think of it as a vacation and ultimately that clears up the thousands of concerns running through my mind. Now the only thing I need to worry about is getting up those stairs.

**~District 4 Reaping~**

**Nico Laybourne's P.O.V.**

The volunteer from the seventeen year old section looks very muscular and fit. At first, I am surprised I have never seen her at the training facility, but her attire shows why I haven't. She has cargo pants, a heavy jacket, and some thick rubber boots on- must work on the docks. She looks worn out and tired as she makes it up the stairs, but she has a confident smile on her face. She introduces herself, Halle _something_, I forget. Hopefully she will serve as good use in the career pack.

Naomi, our escort, makes her way to the boy's reaping bowl. Nervous that someone may volunteer before I can, I volunteer before she can say a name. Naomi drops the folded slip of paper from her hands and screeches for joy for another volunteer.

I run up to the stage and eagerly look for Alaska in the crowd, probably rooting me on somewhere out there. I have never grinned as much as I have now, or felt more powerful than in this moment. Being in front of everyone, being the star makes me feel so amazing.

Our escort scampers over to me, and hands me the microphone so I can say my name. Sounding as charming as ever, I make out my name, "Nico. Nico Laybourne."

Naomi starts to wrap up the reaping and as she does so, I keep looking for Alaska. When I finally find her, her eyes look dead and she just looks so lifeless. I brush her off and look at my district partner, trying to make out more than what meets the eye. All I can think of is how odd we must look together, with her and her fishing gear and me in my suit. She could have at least dressed for the part.

"Will the tributes please shake hands?" As Naomi implies, the girl and I turn toward each other and do so. She looks the same age as me, even though she's a year younger. I grasp her hand, shaking it with a sly smile, she doesn't seem to have any reaction to it though. I can feel a scar where her thumb meets her palm against my warm flesh. I think my father has one on his hand as well.

We let go of each other's hands and both make our way into the Justice Building. As we are separated into different rooms, for a moment, I stop and think about how similar we were in brute strength, but in completely different manners. And how incredibly unfair it is for the Capitol to get everything while us districts work for everything we want in life, as seen with my family and apparently that girl. But the games, they are understandable. They need to be done, just as I need to win them.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! Here's this chapter's questions:

- What are your thoughts on Halle? ($50)

- What are your thoughts on Nico? ($50)

- Quote one piece of the chapter that popped out to you or that you particularly liked. ($100)

- If you could ask any question to Nico or Halle, what would it be? ($50)

I want to wish a happy birthday (August 16th) to our District 7 male, Leo Matchem. Like all birthday giveaways, I'm gifting Leo with $200. Our next birthday will be September 4th for his district partner, Charlotte!

This next part is **VERY IMPORTANT** to anyone who has reserved a spot on the tribute list- I can't think of the plot of the story unless I have** ALL** characters. The next chapter is the District 5 Reaping and we have no female tribute for me to write about! Even if I'm not at your district yet, I can't plan the arena ahead of time. That also leads to complications in other reapings as I am unable to foreshadow upcoming events! You have until August 27th to turn in your submissions or else the reserved slot will be opened again. If you cannot submit your tribute before then, please PM me and so I will be able to open it sooner.

That being said- I want to thank VampireWolfGirl for telling me ahead of time that she can't get her tribute before then. We now have an open slot for the D8 female for anyone who wants it. I'm particularly looking for new readers, but I am welcome to anyone submitting her.

Last, but not least, thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter. I got some great feedback and seeing most everyone review really made me happy!

-Fifi


	8. District 5 Reaping

**A/N: **What do you know? I guess after that last Author's Note I had some creative ideas still in me! I had a lot of this done a while ago, but no inspiration to wrap it up. Thanks to a lot of you, I was incredibly moved to at least finish District Five, which I had put in a large amount of work into already. You all are so amazing. Some of the things said by you guys really spoke to me and meant a lot. I've decided to keep this story here and update when I have the time, energy, and inspiration. I will warn you that I may have long periods of time where there is no update at all and I'm sorry for that. A lot of you were very understanding with the whole college/work situation that recently came up and I am so thankful for that.

Anyways- I hope you enjoy and a two month wait hasn't stirred you away from this story quite yet.

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><p><strong>~District 5 Reaping~<strong>

**Alec Watt's .**

A weight on my chest makes me feel a loss of breath. _Probably the damn cats. _I struggle to open my sleepy eyes and reach up my hands to swat them off. Slowly, my mind puts the puzzle pieces together and I realize Kamille is sitting atop of me. _Good thing I didn't take a swing at her._ "What are you doing out of bed?" I say groggily.

"I can't sleep, Alec," she says in a barely audible whisper.

I reach my hand up to my face and rub my eyes. I clearly remember her sleeping just fine when mom read to her and my brother, Celek, last night. _Is it even morning? It's pitch black. God, is it still nighttime?_ Looking up at Kamille tells me there isn't a good chance of her going back to bed. "How about a walk?"

After Kamille agrees, she scampers back into her room to grab something to put over her nightie. I put on some old jeans and a shirt, a typical outfit for me. It is summer, but the nights in Five are still cold. I grab my cargo jacket off the hanger as I leave my room. Kamille is waiting in the kitchen for me, occupying herself by playing with Polo, one of our two cats. "Are you ready?" I ask quietly, cautious not to wake my mother and younger brother.

"_Mm... _Yes! Wait, no," she runs back to her room and comes back with a wool blanket. "Can we look for stars?" Kamille says, her hazel eyes pleading to my matching pair. I used to sneak out all the time with her when she was little, well, little-er, to stargaze.

"If it's not cloudy," I give in.

We squeeze through the back door, making sure none of the cats follow us and that we don't wake anyone in the house. I was used to this little routine, as I would sneak over to my girlfriend, Pippa's, house every couple of nights. Her parents weren't really one to care, as they never really minded who she was with or where she was. There were nights were I would wait until my family was fast asleep and head over to Pippa's house just to talk to each other until the sun dawned and I had to go to work. If my dad was still around, well that would be a different story.

The district was also quite big on curfew, but as long as you stuck to the alleys you were hidden well enough that the peacekeepers or cameras wouldn't see you. Even at night, the district of lights was aglow with running power plants because although everyone is asleep, our district never rested. We fueled the Capitol, and in return our district didn't starve to death.

My steel-toed boots tapped lightly against the cobblestone with each step as we made our way through the backstreets. It was the only noise in the night air besides the hum of the generators and the buzzing lights around the buildings surrounding us. I could hardly see Kamille run in front of me when her dark sweater and black hair blended so closely with the lighting around us. Albeit, I tried to keep a close eye on her so we wouldn't bump into trouble. The peacekeepers would have our heads if we were found out in the district at this time of night.

It isn't a moment after thinking about what would happen if we were caught when I trip over some metal scraps on the ground. "Fuck," I let the word slip. The scraping aluminum against the floor creates an almost ear shattering noise in the quiet setting. I stay on the ground trying not to move a muscle, listening closely for any sound of curious footsteps. Kamille stops in her tracks and tries to help me up, but I push her against the brick building behind a large bin of trash. Her small frame makes it easy to hold her close to me so we can stay hidden.

We stay there for several minutes, but for I'm sure for Kamille's young, seven year old mind it feels like hours. She attempts to squirm out of my tight grip, but I hold my body over her as we're pressed up against the metal trash bin with my arms wrapped securely around her. I'm not about to risk losing her for my own clumsy mistake.

When no noises arise from the silence, I finally let her go. We walk down to the end of the long alley, this time more cautiously, and look around the corners for any sign of authority. When we see the coast is clear, we slyly walk toward the fences and farther away from the radiant core of District 5.

To be quite honest, staying low and hidden wasn't my forte. I had better chances running rather than stashing myself away in secluded areas or shadows. Hell, I could outrun a lot of people here in 5. When everyone here is cooped up in the factories, I'd be out of the district in the woods. Before Pippa, Kamille and I made constant night trips out in the wilderness. And between then and now I would walk outside the district to clear my mind. All I had to do was tell my boss I was doing some work by the fences and I was free to roam.

They made it easy, really. Working in maintenance I was able to disarm the electricity in one of the panels and leave and re-enter whenever I pleased. It helped having one of the security officers as my best friend. I'd known Karter for years and years now, and ever since he got the night shift in the business I didn't have to worry about frying myself because someone turned on that panel of chain links.

"Come on, Alec," Kamille says under her breath, rushing to get on the trails and see the night sky. I have to grab her arm before she heads for one of the fences still buzzing with enough power to melt the skin right off her bones. The sudden adrenaline that has tensed up my muscles slowly starts to lower and I relax. I lead her over to the part of the district fences where the high voltage no longer remains and let her squeeze under the fence in a divot in the soil. I follow close behind her, trying to fit my slim, yet tall figure through the small opening.

We have made a lot of ground when Kamille says, "If we go any farther we're going to walk right into the Capitol!" I chuckle a bit and run my calloused hands through her hair. As my hand falls, I feel the goosebumps on her skin and I take off my cargo jacket to give to her. It enshrouds her entire body, and the bottom of the coat almost hits her feet. Her petite body looks even tinier in the immense amount of fabric.

"Well, we need to make it far out enough so there's no light from the district," I remind her.

I reach down to grab her hand and I catch her looking up at me. She takes a big breath then asks, "Alec? What would happen if the Capitol found us out here?"

"It doesn't matter, Kam. We'll be fine. All you need to remember is that they keep us fed, and as long as they're there for us, you and me will be okay," I say this truthfully, but I know one day when she's older I'll have to bear watching her stand in the crowd of children on reaping day. The Capitol was one thing, but the games were another. And for now, she didn't need to focus on that.

She looks down and mutters, "they weren't there when dad needed them."

We start to wander into an open field where we can finally see the sky. There's no clouds, lights, or trees to keep us from watching the stars here. We spread the wool blanket in the grass, Kamille being extra careful setting her side of the blanket down neatly. We lie in our makeshift bed peacefully. No one talks. We just look up.

I begin to think about what Kamille has mentioned earlier. There's no possible way she remembers him since she was so young when he died. It was only a year after Celek was born, and he's only a year younger than her. I begin to wonder if the stories she hears at night from my mother contain more than just fairytales.

I can't even imagine putting that story into words. It was all just a mix of emotions. One day he leaves for work like any other, and I go to school. It turned out to be a good day, but when I got home the house was empty. I sat at home, confused, for a long time. Then mother came home with the bad news. Something about an incident and dad's arm. I don't remember much, just mother trying to calm me down while I sobbed. She reassured me he'd be alright. One of the healers in the district was doing their best to amputate what was left of his arm. She told me all of us were going to be okay, and that kept me from crying.

The next week was a bit clearer, father was at home and his conditions demanded rest. I remember what it felt like to be the man of the house for once. For eleven years my dad tried to make me the best man I could be, and I could finally prove it to him then, when he really needed me to. I really didn't know it would be a permanent job though.

The surgery, as well as it could have went being performed by just an old District 5 healer, was a blunder. He died within a month from the infection.

My hand encloses around my little sister's hand again as we continue to gaze among the masterpiece of constellations above us. "Whatever has happened before, Kamille, we have a new story written in the stars above us."

**~Disrict 5 Reaping~**

**Pepper Cresent's P.O.V.**

Rebecca Rabbit squirms when I pick her up at first, but she's used to my gentle arms, and she settles in nicely after I'm lying back on my bed. I usually can't pick her up out of her cage until the girls are awake and out of our bedroom for three. Living in a house blaring with noise kept my time with Rebecca short. Whenever any set of twins would come in, she was sure to startle. Her blue eyes would just pop from fear.

Me on the other hand, I could take the noise. I was probably about half the noise in this house, truthfully. Not that my siblings were any quieter. My sisters, a set of twins, were pretty obnoxious when they wanted to be, and my brothers who were also a pair of twins were only six and were able to create quite the havoc around the house. I kept up my fair share of playfullness, though. If the boys wanted to rough house me or play with toys with them, I would.

Radha and Lavinia, my sisters, were quite close to me as well. Probably closer, actually. They were easy to relate to, and being a big sister I always felt superior when they came to me for questions. Now that they were ten and beginning to have the same problems as me, I knew I could turn to them for advice. Of course, there were things I wished to tell them, but I knew it would be too complicated for them to understand. Issues that are too mature for them. Issues that are for people older than me.

Carefully, I set Rebecca back in her cage and give her a small slice from a papaya. It's rare for her to get fruit or vegetables, as my father is a bit more strict about that sort of matter.

I wipe away the small strands of black and white fur from Rebecca's thick coat off my cobalt colored blouse and start to tread my way into the hallway. I find my mother sitting discreetly on our worn down couch watching something on a holographic screen. It seems to be some Capitol talk show recapping the 83rd Hunger Games. She turns her head in a ninety-degree angle so I can only see half her face. It's enough to get a glimpse of her fox-like blue eyes. I had inherited the shape, but not the gorgeous hue. She gives a large smile, something I can commonly pick out on her face, then says happily, "Good morning, my sweet Elysia." She then pats the spot next her to her, motioning me to come sit.

Elysia was the name my mother yearned to give me, but it became my middle name instead. My mom often used it when she would talk to me and after many years I can say that it is something I much rather preferred to be called.

I stride over and take a seat. Trying to get comfortable, my body leans into her forcing her one of her arms to wrap around me so it isn't trapped by her side. "What are you watching?" I am certain of what it is, but I feel the need to keep up a conversation as I usually do.

She stares at the moving pictures on the holographic slate looking like she has been hypnotized. In almost a sort of drowsily tone, she answers, "last year's games. It's the most violence I've seen crammed into a game yet." She pauses and it's obvious there's something else on her mind as well. "Reminds me a lot of District 3."

Memories can't help but flood back into my brain from those times. I remember the explosions and the warehouses burnt down to ashes. The peacekeepers with the batons and the civilians with bruises so swollen their faces didn't resemble the old ones. What I remember most of all was my father telling me to be a brave girl. I was only four, but the images were fresh in my mind like the papaya in Rebecca's cage.

"But maybe Indran and Finnlay wouldn't be here if we never had that reason to escape," I try to cheer her up.

She looks into my eyes, the green ones that contrast with hers so wildly, and chuckles noticing my poor attempt to lighten the mood. "Yes, but maybe you'd have another sibling if it weren't for that damn peacekeeper," she says with a fake smile.

As if their ears could hear us talking about them, Indran and Finlay, run up to us and flop onto our laps. They're so hyper you can almost see the crazed look in their eyes. While being trampled by six year olds, the giggling girls decide to join in on the party.

In all the chaos, mom looks at me and laughs, "perhaps it's best we didn't have triplets."

We manage to fend off the little ones with tickling and a few tricks up our sleeves, but in an instant, my attention is torn away from my family from a loud _bang._ I kind of jolt, as the gunshot sounding noise seems to remind me of past events. It's only a moment afterwards that I realize it was just something on the television screen. Thinking back to when I first heard that noise, it was the day Radha and Lavinia were born.

We're running through District Three, in the midst of some sort of rebellion. Fires were raging and people were screaming. I remember seeing a peacekeeper raise his gun at a man holding a sign with some sort of bird on it. A mockingjay I assumed. When I heard the shot, mom fell down and I could have sworn I was about to lose my mother from a gunshot wound. I was wrong, luckily. She was forced into labor from the startle, and in a matter of hours I was a big sister.

When it was all over, and Katniss and the other rebelling victor's were killed, I was just a girl in District Five adjusting to her new lifestyle being a big sister and the new girl in school.

I had asked my parents when I was older if I could watch footage from the 74th games to see what had disturbed the peace of Panem. I came to admire the revolutionary acts from Katniss and Peeta and I watched their games countless times. I had probably picked up so many tactics just from watching those reruns over and over.

Of course, there was never any need for it. I never once pegged myself for someone to go into the games. And sure I had taken some tessarae, but being the only eligible child in the family and our low income, I felt the need to. I aspired to make my family have a better life than the one they did in 3, but not in a way that would endanger my life. The games were horrible and I couldn't imagine going into one. Not even after the traumatic events from my background.

Besides, I had plenty to be happy for. A great family, an even greater boyfriend, and plenty of friends. I had no intention for my life to be changed by some small mistake.

**~District 5 Reaping~**

**Alec Watt's P.O.V.**

When I wake up from my dreaming state, I notice we've been sleeping out of the district gates in a completely visible area. There's a quick panic that sets in and makes my heart beat a little faster, but we seem to have gone unnoticed, so I remind myself that there's no reason to freak out. I sit up slightly and lean back, using my elbows to prop me up. The sun was out and beaming rays of light all across the wilderness of District 5. Without the protection from the shady trees, it was a little warm being directly in the sun's path. But the sights of the meadow we made our slumber in meet my eyes for the first time and it makes up for it. I can now see the purple wildflowers surrounding us and the black sky has been replaced with a beautiful, bright blue.

I nudge Kamille and try to wake her so she can see what my eyes have the pleasure of viewing. When she rises, she's a ball of sweat from being in the heat in my thick jacket. She brushes her black hair away from her eyes and smiles at the sight before her.

The walk back is full of smiles and laughs. Kamille makes fun of me for tripping over a tree root, to which I defend myself and say, "what are you talking about? I'm a ninja."

"A clumsy ninja," she giggles.

We're a little more viligant on our way through the fences, as it is mid-day and anyone can see us. Nevertheless, we make it back to the house fine and in one piece.

When my mom sees us come in she raises her eyebrows, questioning where we've been, but she understands when she sees the wool blanket in my arms. "How was it? The stars?" She asks setting the table for breakfast. Maybe lunch. I'm not quite sure.

I throw the blanket over a chair and shrug, "we had a fun time." Celek awkwardly grabs a handful of utensils with his fists to hand to mom. I feel kind of bad for not taking him last night for a second. "Next time, you'll have to come along," I tell him.

"What about me?" A familiar voice rings in my ears and a pair of arms enclose around me from behind. I turn around and give Pippa a small kiss on the lips which makes her eyes light up a bit.

"I don't need to see that!" I hear my mom yell behind me. "Whatever happened to cooties?" I turn towards her laughing a little. Pippa looks slightly embarrassed, even though she should be used to my mother by now.

"Do you need help, Leslie?" I can tell Pippa's just trying to play off the embarrassment until her cheeks return to their porcelain color again. My mother gives her some things to help set up for lunch, so I decide to check on Kamille and see what she's up to.

I'm greeted by her in a pink dress. She does a few twirls showing off the new piece of fabric mom bought for her. We joke around and I join in on her little fashion show, trying to strike poses and make her laugh. I succeed.

After lunch, Pippa and I take Kamille and Celek to the candy shop so they can each pick out some chocolates like they do every reaping day. Kamille makes sure to express her sadness that this will be our last year visiting the shop, since I'm eighteen. I've noticed Pippa also seems a little unhappy today, and while the kids are walking ahead of us I ask her what's wrong.

"Nothing... It's just your last year to buy us chocolate," she says with a fake smile. I nudge her with my shoulder trying to figure out what she's really worried about. "I'm fine, Alec." _Why are girls so complicated?_

"You promise?" I hold out my pinky and raise one eyebrow.

She stares at my finger for a long time with a sort of pained look in her face. "No," she says sounding almost defeated. "It's stupid, really. I'm just worried for today."

"The reaping?" I'm beating a dead horse saying this. Every year her anxiety takes over and she freaks out about reaping day. Not to mention, since we met she's had double the stress worrying about both our wellbeings. I'm usually the only one who can calm her down from her full- on attacks. "We'll both be fine."

"You promise?"

I hold out my pinky with a smirk.

**~District 5 Reaping~**

**Pepper Cresent's P.O.V.**

"Dishes." My dad repeats for the third time in the last hour. "We've got a pile of dirty plates in the sink that you need to get to."

"I know, I know," I reassure him with a smile, "I'll get it done." Beginning to walk over to the sink I start to notice the tower of dishes my family has so graciously left for me. I guess it was just the joy of living in a large family.

He kisses the top of my head roughly. "We've got errands to run, so get to it!"

I let out a hearty laugh. "There's no way I'll get this done and still have time to go with you. Just go without me."

In a matter of minutes, I am home alone with nothing but a sponge and a mission. I get a good start on the chore and spend the time I have by myself to think a little. But besides the often _clash _or _clank_ of a dish, it was just dead air, and ten minutes into it I felt pretty lonely.

I'm relieved when my boyfriend, Zane, shows up at the house because I was in dire need of some company. It was good timing, as well. If he had shown up fifteen minutes earlier when my parents were in the house, he would have been shooed out before he even stepped foot through the door. My mother was probably the easiest going gal you'd ever meet in 5, but boys were a whole different story. She met my father when she was only fifteen, only a year older than I am now, and later had me that year. As a result, I wasn't allowed to have Zane or any other boys over, and Radha and Lavinia weren't allowed to date, period. She and my father made sure to make it clear to Zane and any other boys caught flirting with their little girls that if they saw us doing anything they'd probably have their heads!

Although, Radha told me plenty of times of a boy named Mitchell she had been talking to. She could deny it as much as she wanted, but I knew they had a thing going on. Ten years old and she was already sneaking out to go see him.

I couldn't really tell my mother though; I had done far worse crimes than just sneaking out. And I had paid for them.

"We really should talk about it, Zane. I think it's starting to drive me insane." I sort of fall into his arms instinctively. I make my eyes go cross eyed simultaneously, trying to act insane and add less weight to the serious conversation I've dragged us into.

He pushes me against the counter, not forcefully, but enough to make me feel a little trapped, "Do we really though?" He asks me seductively. It's hard not looking back into his sultry blue eyes, but I know that we really need this talk, and we needed it soon.

I try to squeeze out of his arms, it becomes sort of a game, but when I finally get out of his reach I say, "Zane, this is serious. I can't just bottle this up inside me; you know I'm not like that. We need to talk about this." My lungs feel a little heavy since I worked up some wearisome breathes and it staggers my words a little. I hope my point still made it across to him loud and clear. I'm a bit unsure if it did since his face, usually bright and happy, looks a bit sullen and he looks like his mind is trying to put together some sort of response to say back to me.

My heart gets a little heavier too when he finally responds, "I'm going to head out. I'll see you at the reaping." He kisses my cheek and makes his way towards the door.

**XxXxXxXx**

After a rough day, I feel too upset and worn down for a stressful reaping day. I decide the walk straight to the town square, avoiding obnoxious boys trying to get my attention. I was used to the harassment anyways. I was always a more attractive girl growing up, with my blonde hair and foxy green eyes. Not to mention, I had gone through some earlier changes than some of the other girls in school. I wasn't allowed to wear lower cut shirts because it was "distracting" to the learning environment for boys. In my opinion, they were all just perverts.

Desiree, my best friend, is already in her spot for the reaping with the other fifteen year olds. I take a place towards the front of the fourteen year old section so I can stand near her by the barrier that separates us. When she sees me, she gives a bright smile and leans over the rail for a hug. Whenever I was in dire need, Desiree was there for me. I decide I'll tell her about the problem going on between Zane and I after the reaping.

We talk for a while, having a light conversation until the escort walks onto the stage. I take admiration in her outfit, which just happens to be my favorite color- a sky blue. If only, the design wasn't so god forbiddingly ugly.

Suddenly there's a shift in the gaze of the crowd, all eyes are faced towards me, besides Desiree's, who has her head hanging low. _Did I really miss the name?_ I ask myself as I watch a tear fall off Desiree's face. My heart clenches to the littlest of hope that what is happening is all just a dream. I even pinch myself- but I won't wake up.

I lean towards my best friend, somewhat blocked by this metal pole between us and give her a hug. My mouth trembles as I whisper the words, "good luck".

Desiree grabs my shoulders and pulls me away from her. Tears still in her eyes, and something else as well. "Pep… I didn't get called." There is a moment of realization and her words sync with my train of thoughts- "You did."

Quickly, I grab Desiree close to me and pull her in for another hug, this time my entire body trembling. I don't know how long I stayed there, but it was too long for the Capitol audience. A peacekeeper grabs me by the sleeve of my black and red dress and tugs me away from her. I walk towards the cement stage, feeling more like I'm waddling than taking confident strides like I typically do.

The steps are the hardest, because from this altitude I can see the crowd. My family, Desiree, Zane, everyone is staring at me.

I don't even notice I've stopped in my tracks on the fourth step until I get another friendly reminder from that peacekeeper. The escort makes some sort of comment to the cameras, but my eyes only see her mouth move. Everything is quiet as I process things, I hate it.

The escort slips out a paper slip from the boy's side and a tall boy from the eighteen year old section comes up. We shake hands, but he doesn't look at me, just somewhere out in the crowd with a sorrowful look in his eyes.

When he lets go, my hand slides down to my stomach_. Looks like we've got three lucky tributes representing District 5 this year._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I have a few questions for you to answer in reviews for those of you who are signed up for sponsor points-

-What is one quote you particularly liked in this chapter? ($100)

-Thoughts on Pepper and her secret? ($50)

-Thoughts on Alec? ($50)

-Have you seen Mockingjay yet? What were your thoughts? Any favorite parts?($100)

-My absolute favorite part was the Hanging Tree scene!

I also have a few birthday gifts to give out-

Charlotte Lace (D7F)- Sept. 4th

Mandi Danoir (D1F)- Sept. 19th

Pepper Cresent (D5F)- Nov. 5th

-Each of these girls will receive $200 in their sponsor accounts for the special occasion.

Lastly, the review I mentioned earlier in my A/N last chapter was an anon review under the name of "Shock689". I would like to clarify that the review was NOT written by the user and fellow reader in this story Shock689.

Thanks for reading and all the fabulous support!

Love, Fifi


	9. District 6 Reaping

**~District 6 Reaping~**

**Max Cooper's P.O.V.**

The room is dimly lit when I wake up and I assume it can't be past six o'clock. The blankets or so-called "curtains" block the light from getting into the long room that houses all the other boys that live with me. My hand reaches out from my top bunk trying to reach the small sheet over the window. I manage the stretch and peak through the glass. The sun does not seem to be over the horizon yet, but the glow from behind the factory buildings still illuminates the sky with an azure color. None of the stations or industries were polluting the air with smoke exhaust and gas fumes, yet.

Even on reaping day, the fresh air was consumed with the suffocating smell of trains passing by and by. It was District 6's natural musk. The only transportation running on reaping day was the capitol hover train. It was no where near the standards of a train we produced on a weekly basis for the transportation of the other district's products. No, this train was specifically for taking the children of our district to the Capitol. All our lives growing up around the trains, the hovercrafts, the peacekeeper hummers, and nothing was more horrifying than walking past our main station by the Justice Hall on reaping day and seeing that train. The odds were slim, coming from the most populated district in Panem, but if you had seen just see that train...

_Stop thinking about it, Max. _I shake my head and press my index and middle fingers against my temples trying to rid the thoughts of that hover train in my mind. I had a job to do, and so little time to do it.

I swiftly creep down the ladder of my bunk, trying to not wake my new bunk mate. He was new and like lots of the other children here, had trouble sleeping through the rough nights. Where the abandonment haunts your dreams and makes you weep in your sleep. I would be one to know.

My feet crisscross this way and that stepping on each slat of wood knowing exactly what floor boards squeak and which ones don't. I brush up against Martin's bed and decide not to wake him in today's raid. He was the only one I trusted telling about my thievery with the orphanage's stored food in the kitchen. I wouldn't say he was a stealthy guy, but he knew how to keep a secret and that worked for me.

I slide through the partially open doorway, then out into the corridor. The high walls and thin walkway of this hallway always gave me the creeps. The wallpaper tore halfway down the wall and the flickering lights were a great addition to this house of horrors. Martin always seemed okay with it, but whenever a door would creak open from a draft I would almost have a heart attack.

I was always happy when the door to the girl's rooming area was open because I could get a glimpse of my sister, Kira. She and I came to the orphanage together when our parents died from that hover train explosion, the same train that carries away the newly reaped tributes. Tonight, she doesn't even get a mattress. She's condemned to the floor with just a pillow, like many other girls in the room. Some sleep together in the beds and some even snooze underneath the bunks, just trying to fit in the cramped room.

I want to wake her. I want to sneak past all the dormant children and run away from this nightmarish place with her. Except to her, it isn't a nightmare. To her, it's life. She doesn't recall the fiery death of our parents despite her thirty feet away from the incident in my arms when it happened. She was only five and unable to comprehend that the flames from that hover train before her were ripping away our life line. Our childhood. Our everything.

Her happy outlook on things was almost inspiring. She ignored the fact that we were wasting away in an orphanage. She'd rather look at it like just a bump in the road. Sometimes I wish I could be that strong for her. To be the big brother I need to be; but like the blinding smoke from our district, I couldn't see a way out of our misery.

_Creeaa-_ I lift my foot off the squeaky floorboard in an instant. My heart pounds like crazy and all my hairs on my body stand up. I would be struck so hard if I was caught. My sister too. I try to take a breather, but my limbs are trembling and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I'm farther from my room than the kitchen now and I have no choice but to keep going.

Being reaping night I can't help but feel foolish for thinking I could get away unscathed with this act. I've done this so many times unnoticed; it's only a matter of time before I get caught. I catch a tear before it falls from my green eyes to the ground. I don't want to keep moving, but the rumbling noises my stomach make speaks otherwise.

Slowly, but surely I reach the double doors that lead to the kitchen. I try to push the large wooden doors open gently and to my surprise I find that they were left unlocked. Most nights I would have to sneak all the way into Mrs. Ford's office to grab the key. I can't help but feel that I am walking into a trap, but when I peak inside the lights are off and there is no sign of anyone around.

I build up enough might to push the heavy doors open wide enough and squeeze inside. The kitchen smells like rotting meat, as it always does. The tiles are soaked with something slimy and I don't need to look down to know that whatever it is is probably covered in mold.

I've found it best I don't stay in the kitchen long. After a while the smells of the rotting carcasses start to remind me a little bit of the horrid smell at my mother and father's funeral. There wasn't many remains left after the explosion, but whatever came back was not my mother and father. They were disfigured and didn't resemble the faces I had known for ten years. But the smell at the burial… It's the kind of sickening sweet smell that digs into your nose and stays in your memory forever.

The pantry is mostly empty with the exception of one large box of stale crackers. We were probably expecting a new shipment to come in from the Capitol sometime soon, but there was no doubt in my mind that they would make these crackers last a few more weeks. We would stoop down to one cracker and some milk a day if it came down to it.

Most kids wouldn't even get food. If you were weaker than the others, you would most likely get your meal of the day stolen by someone bigger than you. The supervisors didn't care either. That left me and Kira without food most days. We were down to skin and bones before I had to start stealing from the kitchen. Kira couldn't even muster up enough strength to walk she was so hungry at one point. Even now, when I'm stealing from the pantry almost every week I only weigh about one hundred pounds at thirteen years old.

My right hand, the one missing a pinky from a school field trip, darts out eager to grab the crackers and get out of here, but I know I have to be smart about all of this. I worry that if I take any more than five or six, I could be putting myself in danger of being caught. My stomach emits that loud gurgling sound and I just grab a full pack of crackers, which holds eight bland wafers, and stuff them into my shorts.

I swiftly make my way back into the boy's room and to my bunk. With a small crinkle of plastic, I unwrap the treat I've stolen and shove it into my mouth. My eyes catch a small boy looking up at me from the floor where he lies. He has the same look I did when I first arrived- a look of desperation. Out of shame and pity, I hide the crackers under my pillow and lie down to look at the ceiling so I don't have to face the little boy who was once me on the floor.

**~District 6 Reaping~**

**Thea Porter's P.O.V.**

"Hi, Davey", I say sweetly. Davon rolls out from under the lifted train cab and groans at the sight of me. I'm kind of appalled. "You know, most people would be gracious to have me in their presence," I sneer, crossing my arms.

"Not when you look like that," he says toneless. His feet push him back under the locomotive to work on whatever _thing-a-ma-bob_ lies down there.

"Like what?!"

"You look like a damn Capitolite," he remarks without the slightest bit of care. I've already dressed myself in my favorite tight dress with the tall heels I got for my birthday. My lashes surrounding my large, brown eyes are painted in black mascara and my lids are covered in a dark hue of green eyeshadow. The rest of my skin is porcelain white. Not a single scratch or spot to claim, except perhaps the beauty mark under my eye.

I've put my hair up in some expensive pink curlers so I'll have lots of volume instead of the loose curls my brunette hair usually holds. My mother is a baggage handler in the Capitol Metro and whatever is left behind she gets to keep, so I've put the things she's brought me home to use today; including the curlers and a nice diamond necklace.

The thought of looking like a Capitolite makes me smile. "Thanks, big brother," I finally say in response. With my mom as a baggage handler and my father as the head conductor, I've heard a fair share of their luxurious adventures in that fairytale land. My grandmother has also told me a bit about the Capitol and their extravagant culture- she's a train router and knows her way around there. Sadly, I'm confined to the foul district I grew up in. My brother is a mechanic in my grandfather's family business downstairs from our nice flat. Most of the time it's just me and Davon at home with our grandparents.

A small, furry creature catches all my attention in the blink of an eye. "EEEK!" My shrieking fills the air and I scramble to get on top of the table I've been leaning on. The thought of a rodent near me makes my spine tingle and I want to vomit.

Davon reacts instantaneously, searching frantically for what I'm screaming about. "What?! What is it?!" I can't even make out words now to tell him what's wrong. I just point at the spot I saw it repeatedly. With a swift movement, his muscled body makes its way to the source of chaos. He peeks behind a drawer by the wall, calling back to me- "it's just a rat. Calm down."

I try incredibly hard not to let a tear escape. The only worse thing than seeing a rat would be smeared makeup on reaping day. Davon kneels down and grabs the cornered rat. _I'll never touch those hands again,_ I think watching him pick up the germ carrying pest out of the garage.

"I'm telling you, you could have been a District 6 victor, boy. Seems like you're always on your toes," my grandpa says with a low grumbled chuckle as Davon returns. He really could have been. He's pretty strong and is a tough guy. Could you imagine how many pieces of jewelry I could get with a brother as a victor? I could even visit the Capitol. I take in a deep breath and feel my heart skip a beat thinking about it. But with him being nineteen now, he's too old to compete, thus my chances of living the good life going out the window.

As grandpa goes back to work and Davon arranges his tools beside me to call it a day, I sit on the thought of if my brother had volunteered and how much happier we'd all be. "Why didn't you do it?" I ask scoffing.

"Do what?" He makes out still focusing on the metallic utensils lying out in front of him.

Part of me wants me to just look at me for once and give a damn. "Volunteer, you moron."

My wishes are granted and his gaze shifts to my eyes. I can see the bulge on his upper lip as he runs his tongue across his teeth and his brows sort of furrow together. All I get is a shrug and I have to roll my eyes as if we're only talking in body language. He opens his mouth to start, closes it, then opens again to say, "if I died who would protect you?"

He starts for the door, but I don't feel done yet. Davon is almost out of the room and before he escapes, I yell out to him, "I could be rich, you dummy!" I don't know if he heard me the first time so I yell it out one last time, and then get up to walk upstairs and finish my hair.

**~District 6 Reaping~**

**Max Cooper's P.O.V.**

After we've finished the morning chores that Mrs. Ford has assigned to us, we are allotted some time to spend outside. Most boys and girls find better company inside since today is a bit chilly. There's no sun shining today, as it was yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and so on. Kira and Martin have met me in our usual hang out spot in the alley behind the orphanage where a wobbly cardboard fort awaited us.

Our clubhouse was small, but if we squeezed it could fit the three of us. After all, it wasn't as if we weren't used to small living accommodations already. The walls of the fort were decorated with drawings in yellow, blue, and purple. We had been stashing a few of the crayons we found lying around in the fort. Recently, I had found a stub of a green crayon under one of the beds. The shade was a dark emerald color, like my eyes. Like my dad's eyes. It just so happened that green was one of my favorite colors.

Against Martin's protest to draw a large reptilian monster, I color the bottom of the box entirely green. Despite, the waxy texture I feel on my fingers, I try to imagine it as grass, something that I rarely saw in District 6. Kira admires my idea and thinks it is quite brilliant. We pretend we're sunbathing in the grass under the big, scribbled yellow sun above us for the rest of our free time. As I lie there I can't help but think to myself, _"I would die to lie on some real grass"._

When we hear the faint sound of a bell, we head back inside to get dressed in our formal wear for the reapings. This is only my second year in the bowl, and I've got fifteen slips, just like every other boy my age in the orphanage. The thought of the Hunger Games, _that hover train,_ makes my heart beat faster.

Everyone eligible for this year's games is asked to line up with boys on the left, girls on the right so we can be assigned clothes. The younger kids are asked to go back to the dorms and finish cleanup. Last year, I got a yellow stained dress shirt and had to wear my worn out jeans because they ran out of slacks. I'm a bit luckier this year; the button-up is clean and white as snow and the black slacks fit nicely. I wonder if this upcoming year could prove easier than the previous ones.

I learn I'm dead wrong when I go to the boy's room to change. There, I find Mrs. Ford beating one of the boys. She's always been a harsh lady, but never physically. The worst she's done is yelling. This… This was horrifying.

Most of the boys gather around to see who the boy is. I keep my distance because hearing his screams are enough. "I don't know his name! Please!" The boy's words are almost inaudible through his sobs. I try to ignore his pleas for help and rush to get dressed so I can go find Kira, but my attention is caught when I hear him scream, "_he_ stole the crackers! I just ate one!"

My heart stops and I run out of the room still in my t-shirt and jeans. I burst into tears in the hallway. I don't know what makes me want to be sick more- The fact my actions put that boy from last night in trouble, or the fact that as soon as he sees my face, Kira and I are dead.

I barely pull myself together to run to the bathroom and change so I can find Kira and get out of here. I meet her in the commons and then we head to the town square early, despite it being against the rule to leave the home unless given permission.

I don't know what I'm hoping will happen. I'm aware that when I come home I'm just in as much trouble. I hope for some type of miracle to come sweep me away so Kira and I don't have to suffer.

**~District 6 Reaping~**

**Thea Porter's P.O.V.**

My brush glides over the crème colored canvas, outlining the buildings I've so expertly painted. Painting was just one of many things I'm great at. My latest muse has been depictions of the Capitol from what I've heard in stories. Sometimes I wished I could hop in the picture and go shopping for a while and maybe hang out with a few celebrities. Then hop back out and gloat to all the peasants here.

"Why don't you do it?" I hear from behind me. I turn to see Davon leaning against the doorframe of my large bedroom. He's got his arms crossed, but it's about the only emotion he's expressing.

Surprised with him coming back to talk, I turn my chair towards him and reply, "do what?" I raise my colored in brow and cross my arms as well.

"Sell your paintings, dummy." He doesn't have the same witty attitude I did earlier, but that's okay. Not everyone can be as perfect as me, I understand that.

My view changes to the piles upon piles of paintings I've done over the years. Unlike fashion trends, my love for painting doesn't ever change. I've never grown tired of it. My parents think it's beautiful and so would anyone else graced to see it. But I don't think Davon understands that with great art like this, you can't just give it to anyone unworthy. And the price is far too high for any of these grease monkey's incomes.

"I mean you could make a decent amount of money with it. Not that we need it," he laughs dryly. "I guess it's just nice making your own money."

I squint for a moment, and then return to my face to normal, remembering I have to prevent wrinkle lines. "How much would they sell for?" I look off at my masterpieces and smile. "Five hundred?"

Davon bursts into laughter, the only real laughter I may have ever heard from him. I shoot him a nasty glare and he stifles it a little. I tell him to get out so I can finish my painting and he leaves me be.

For a long time I just stare at the Capitol painting in front of me. I can feel my cheeks burning in anger. I stand up calmly and grab the painting from the easel. It is too perfect. I decide that no matter how much anyone would offer, it's too priceless to give away. Every single one of them.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

As Davon and I head out the door, we find a neatly wrapped box on our front porch addressed from our parents. With their high end jobs in transportation, they are usually away for reaping day, but I don't really care. However, I _do_ care about whatever is in that small box. I take the pleasure in unwrapping it, despite it being marked for the both of us. I unfold the tissue paper enclosing what's inside quickly, as if doing it slowly would allow the gift to escape.

When the suspense has built up to its full potential I find the prize inside- a miniscule colored picture of the Capitol buildings. I search the rest of the box, looking for the diamond ring or gold necklace, but find nothing. On the back of the picture the my parents have inscribed a little passage-

"_Wishing we could be there for you today. Sending our love from here in the Capitol. Good luck! –Love, Mom and Dad."_

I crumple the picture, receiving a weird look from Davon, and then throw it back on the porch with the box.

On the way to the square, I run into some of the guys in my class and Davon runs off to do last minute errands before the mandatory reaping. The boys and I decide to hang out by the west train tracks. We run into one of my close friends from school as well, although… I can't quite remember her name. Perhaps it started with a "T"?

We chat and share a few laughs for a long time. The boys seem to like my short dress, but I'm not very surprised. Halfway through our get-together I start feeling the breeze and remember I didn't bring my jacket with the faux fur. Luckily, one of the boys was wearing a coat and I was able to charm it right off his back.

"Wow! You're really toned aren't you," I say rubbing my hand across the boy's chest.

"I wouldn't really say th-"

"No, really! You know what would be really hot?" I say biting my lip and looking up at him. I bat my eyes a little for added effect.

He gives a nervous laugh, "what?"

"Maybe if you just…" I trail off and then start removing his black jacket for him. I place it on myself then stay in his arms. _Mm...Nice and toasty._

**XxXxXxXxXx**

We all make sure to get to the square on time for reapings. Everyone looks antsy to get this done with, but I take pride in the fact that I get to dress up today. Besides, I had no tessarae and only four slips in the bowl. It's a game for the dirty poor and trust me; this district has plenty of those.

"Hello, hello everyone," I hear the escort hum over the microphone as I take my spot with the fifteen year olds. I try to avoid touching the other girls with pattered clothes, but ultimately get stuck between two rather unpleasant girls. One says a quiet hello, but I look away from her and pretend I didn't hear.

The mayor reads us the Treaty of Treason, and like school, I slowly lose my focus. I search the girls around me for someone decent to talk to, but most of them have their head down. Out of boredom I tap my heels on pavement, eager to move on. When it's the escorts turn again she doesn't hesitate to pull a name. _Thank goodness, someone who doesn't waste my ti- _"Thea Porter."

I let out a little snicker because that slip had to be wrong. Slowly, all faces turn toward me and I my jaw drops. _It's really me. This can't be happening. Why is no one volunteering?_ _These people are crazy! _The thoughts trickle through my head.

The truth was someone _had _to volunteer at some point. They wouldn't send a girl like _me_ into the games. I loosen my face and put on a smile while I patiently wait for someone to raise their hand and volunteer for me. The square is dead silent and after a while I can feel a bead of sweat form on my forehead.

I finally feel a little shove and look behind me to see it's the girl who said hello earlier. I can't even react. My face is back to confused and shaken up. A peacekeeper has to pick me up and lift me to the stairs, because I refuse to budge. I anxiously await to hear my district partner, hoping it's a strong boy I know who can help me through these games. "Max Cooper!" The escort yells, more enthusiastic now that I've joined her on stage.

A terrified boy from the thirteen year old section makes his way up. He's got blonde curly hair and is paler than the white shirt on his back. He's in no way, shape, or form able to take care of me in these games. I instantly dismiss him off a list of allies I will need. Not to mention he looks like he hasn't had a good bath in a while.

We turn to each other to shake hands and I take a glimpse into his green eyes that look lifeless already. Tears escape his eyes softly and he reaches up to try and wipe them away, but they just keep coming back. I reach out to grab his hand, even though I'm questioning how sanitary that may be after he's wiping his runny nose and tears. His grip is wimpy and poor, but I soon notice something odd about his hand. I look down and find he's missing a finger. I rip my hand back in disgust as the escort concludes the ceremony, "Please say goodbye to your lucky tributes this year. Thanks to your hard work, our tributes will have the luxury of riding the smoothest, fastest train available- the hover train!"

Before the escort can wish us good luck and end with the famous phrase, the blonde boy breaks into hysteria. He's screaming something about the train and the peacekeepers have to drag him into the justice building.

_These people are crazy._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ***Capitol accent* Hello, hello readers!**

**Sorry for a super long delay, hopefully a big chunk of reapings made you feel a little better. Also, we're half way there! And it only took us 10 months…**

**Anyhow, here are some sponsor questions for those still reading:**

1) What is one quote you particularly liked in this chapter? Why? ($100)

2) Thoughts on Max? ($50)

3) Thoughts on Thea? ($50)

4) Who are your top two tributes from the first 6 Districts? Why? ($100)

**I have deleted the A/N before the District 5 Reaping and so those who have reviewed District 5 will have to PM answers.**

**And now birthday points to the fabulous following tributes:**

- Alec Watts- Dec. 21st

- Jasper Hensworth- Dec. 24th

- Fathe McCothrane- Dec 29th

- Hayden Stross- Jan. 10th

- Elodie Copper- Mar. 13th

**Each tribute will receive $200 in sponsor points.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**XOXO,**

**Fifi**


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